Good at Goodbyes
by beyondwonder
Summary: Following the events of CA: Civil War, the Avengers are left trying to recover from the fallout. While on the run, Natasha finds herself questioning her worth and decides to balance her ledger. Romanogers.
1. Chapter 1

I've been working on this baby for a while now and it's finally ready for posting. The following chapter takes place right at the end of CA:CW (but before the post credit scene with Bucky).

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"Hey, solider."

Steve whirled around; fists coiled and taunt shoulders dropping with surprise upon recognizing the red head perched atop the security camera desk. Behind her an unconscious guard sat slumped in his chair. She uncrossed her legs and jumped down from the desk gracefully.

"Where's your shadow?" She inquired, peering around him and down the corridor where numerous bodies lay in Steve's wake.

"Safe," he answered, his muscles tightening again in anticipation of a fight _. What is she doing here?_ He eyed her suspiciously, trying to determine if she was poising herself to attack. The last time he'd seen her they'd faced off at the Leipzig airport and he wondered if maybe this time she wasn't going to simply step aside.

As if having read his mind, she released a short exasperated sigh and explained her presence in the maximum-security prison. "Didn't think I'd let you attempt a prison break without me did you?" She cocked her head to the side; green eyes alight with mischief. "Nice work on scrambling the bay doors security system during shift change, Rogers. I'm impressed. Did his majesty lend you some of his fancy toys?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Steve denied, still unsure as to the Black Widows motives and more importantly – her allegiances. A part of him longed to believe that maybe, just maybe, she had been on his side from the beginning and that she'd never really been swayed by the dubious prospect of the Accords. However, with everything that had happened with S.H.I.E.L.D and Hydra back in DC, the Captain had begun to grow suspicious of every single persons agenda around him nowadays. The only person he could wholly trust without doubt was himself.

"Well I'd love to stand here while you weigh up whether you can trust me or not, but we've only got seven more minutes before the security cameras I've just disabled come back online. If it's all the same I'd really like to be long gone before General Ross figures out I'm here." She arched an eyebrow at him and inclined her head towards the hallway behind her. "You coming, Rogers?"

Steve chewed on the inside of his cheek, uncertainty echoing in his mind and heart. A beat later and he found himself nodding and taking a step forward to follow her. Satisfied, Natasha took off in a dead sprint, turning right down a short corridor that splintered off into two different directions – all of them unmarked and identical in nature. She motioned left while pulling a gun and a security card from the holster of her cat suit, an indicated that they should take the large door at the end of the hallway. He slid to a stop, glancing behind them for any guards while she swiped the card through the security reader.

Seconds later the door unlocked with a dull beep and he exited the brightly lit grey hallway and stepped down onto a narrow steel catwalk. The size of the RAFT prison had been deceivingly small until now. The catwalk the duo stood on wrapped around the entire circular perimeter of the prison. Three narrow catwalks crisscrossing across the mammoth hollow interior of the circle. Following Natasha closely onto the middle catwalk, Steve cast a wary glance below. An onslaught of wind and sea spray ruffled the hair on his head, the roaring gusts threatening to pull both of them down below into the churning sea. Despite the thin metal railing bordering the catwalk, Steve didn't like his chances of balance if a fight broke out on the flimsy looking walkway. "Where is everyone?" he asked, sweeping his head back and forth to study their surroundings.

They reached the end of the catwalk and paused at the bottom of a metal stairwell. "Three on your far right. Fully armed. I'll take these two," Natasha whispered. Steve nodded his understanding and sure enough, no sooner had they ascended the steps two guards whirled around and charged towards them.

The crackle of stun batons rang in the air and Steve ducked low, avoiding a reckless swipe from one of the guards and shoved him heavily into Natasha waiting kick. Leaving her to it, he streaked further down the hallway and found his group of guards loitering around the corner of the next hallway. While unaccustomed to fighting without the surprise element of his shield, Steve made sure to land a hard kick to the middle of the first guards spine, effectively shoving him awkwardly into the other two guards. They cried out in a mess of limbs, scrambling to activate their batons and attack the infamous Avenger. Two quick jabs to the taller of the trio's sternum and another to his shoulder left one man incapacitated and falling in a heap. The next guard attempted to stun the Captains knee, and while the electric jolt sent a ripple of pain to his surrounding muscles, it wasn't strong enough to stop him from grabbing that attacker by the scruff of the neck and throwing him head first into the wall behind him. The guard crumpled much like the first guard had, leaving the last guard throwing his baton aside and reaching for his firearm. The bewildered man barely got a shot off before Steve elbowed him in the nose, and swept his legs out from under him, cracking his head on the super soldiers knee cap before falling unconscious like his comrades.

"Where to next?" He asked, turning in time to see Natasha disarming the next security door in front of him.

"Through here – I'll take care of the light show and alarms."

He nodded in thanks whilst Natasha darted off towards the large double doors at the end of the hall. He was eternally grateful he hadn't been left to navigate the complicated prison from the vague map King T'Challa has sketched him. Every corridor and door looked identical from the last, without any numbers or nameplate indicating what door held what. Pushing the useless thought aside, he slipped through the door and made his way to his imprisoned teammates.

Steve paused momentarily as above his head the lights flickered and were extinguished, leaving only the murky shadows from emergency lighting. He recognized Barton in the cell closest to the door, the bored archer glaring up at the ceiling. In the cell next to him, Scott paused from drumming his hands on his desk. Directly ahead of Steve, Sam turned around in his cell looking suspiciously into the darkness. A familiar grin lit up his face as he recognized his friend as he stepped into the light. "Well it's about damn time."

"Sorry I'm late. I had to stop and ask for directions," Steve apologized, removing a small square handheld device T'Challa had given to him before he'd left. From what the Wakandian King had explained, it was some sort of contained C4 explosive. The blonde Captain glanced over at Wanda on his right who still remained seated with her back to him. He cast Sam a concerned glance and found the man's response less than reassuring. "You guys ready to go?"

"Nah, I was just considering redecorating my new digs. Maybe a splash of paint, some oak floorboards, a nice wicker basket... hurry up and get us the hell out of here!" Barton snarled, leaning against his cell door and waving at Steve to hurry up.

"Step back, I don't know how big the blast will be," Steve warned, jogging over to each cell and, thanks to the magnetic back, attached the small blinking devices to the center of each door. "Wanda, you with me?" He prompted gently when he reached her cell. The young woman slowly looked over her shoulder, her eyes empty and hollow. Yet she did as she was told – albeit sluggishly as her arms where bound in a straight jacket. Steve's heart sunk as he watched her and the anger that hadn't burned since his fight with Tony returned with full vengeance. _How dare they do this to her? Treating her like she was some kind of rabid wild animal._ It made him feel sick.

"Time's ticking boys." Natasha warned, yanking on the collar of Steve's shirt to pull him backwards before he activated the blast from a remote beacon. He shut one eye in anticipation for the blast but was disappointed when a small silver bolt of electricity, similar to Natasha widow bites, rippled from the device and radiated around the cell door frame.

"Was that it?" Sam asked and warily stepped forward. He pushed on the door experimentally to find it gave way as easily as tissue paper. "Nice!" Sam approved, exiting his cell.

"Well look what the cat dragged in." Clint leered, having now joined Natasha as she was pulling Wanda's cell door open.

"I spoke to Lara, she said you owe her a new bedroom furniture set," Natasha retorted, sending her friend a smug grin. She made short work undoing the clips and buckles on Wanda's straitjacket.

"That right? Well did you tell her you punched me first?" Clint contended, pulling the jacket up and over Wanda's head. The Sokovian native reached towards the collar around her neck timidly, but was stopped by Natasha who was already pulling what looked like a fat pen from her back pocket.

Steve watched through narrowed eyes as Natasha clicked on the end of the object and instructed Wanda to hold very still. Running a small red beam of light across the middle of the collar, the red head squinted in concentration as the beam released a sizzling sound while cutting easily through the metal. It only took a second for her to draw a line when the collar suddenly fell free and onto the ground with a clank.

Natasha reached towards Wanda's neck, gently inspecting to make sure there was no heat or damage to her skin before pressing a gentle comforting hand to the brunettes' cheek. "You're safe now," Natasha promised and wiped away an errant tear that had fallen from Wanda's eye with her thumb.

An ear piercing alarm shattered the fugitive's silence. "I thought you said you dealt with the alarms?" Steve shouted over the noise at Natasha.

She tossed him a glare and waved at them to exit through the way they came. "There must have been on in the collar!" she answered, drawing her weapon again. She led the way back to the stairs, only to find that with the introduction of the alarms, guards were now starting to pour from every hallway and door around them.

"So do you have some kind of an exit plan, Cap? Cos we could do with one right about now!" Sam shouted over the chaos of shots firing and the alarms blaring.

"This is kinda how I saw it going!" Steve yelled back, storming forth to take out two guards simultaneously as he led the way precariously back across the catwalk.

"Which is exactly why I knew I'd better have a plan B," Natasha called out and before any of them had a chance to act, she pushed Steve aside and tossed four silver egg-shaped objects towards the awaiting group of guards charging up the catwalk. "Hold on!" She shouted in warning. No sooner had they all grabbed a railing, a sonic wave blasted through the unsuspecting guards and the catwalk snapped in half and slammed down into a steep 60-degree angle. Natasha was the first one to regain her balance, leaping off the catwalk and onto the one below. The rest of them followed, their escape paths now clear ahead as the guards above frantically tried to rearrange themselves.

"That was… surprisingly well thought out." Scott appraised with a nervous laugh.

"Come on!" Steve growled, waving the rest of them along and across the top of the fallen guards. Making their way back to the entrance proved significantly easier thanks to Natasha and the absence of any guards. In record time they made it back to the waiting quinjet that he'd arrived in. Everyone save Natasha hurled themselves inside the aircraft panting from their mad dash. "Wait! Nat, aren't you coming?" Steve hollered, when he realized that Natasha standing by the entrance doors.

"Not yet, I'll catch up."

"Natasha!" Steve reached out for her arm, thoroughly confused as she waved them off.

"Steve, it's ok. I got this. Go!"

"But if General Ross-"

"I'll be long gone before he gets here."

"Nat!" Clint called, having settled Wanda in a seat and buckled her up. He came to see what the hold up was.

She smiled confidently at them both and continued to back away. "It's fine. Go. Tell Laura I'll make good on my promise."

"Ah guys, we've got company." Sam called from the front of the quinjet. He pointed at the ten plus guards charging their way down the staircases towards them.

"Dammit!" Clint snapped and sprung towards the pilot's chair and fired up the quinjet's engines. "Cap, it's time to go!"

Before Steve could respond, Natasha plundered back into the building, firing her weapon as she did so. Perplexed, he stumbled backwards in to the quinjet, the ramp raising, sealing him off from the red head. He staggered towards the front of the jet, sliding into the seat beside Clint to assist the man in launching, but the archer had it under control and was already calling for Scott to find a seat. The launch bay doors above them opened up, seawater raining down all around them. The engines roared with full power, the jet shaking slightly as Clint tilted them towards the sky. Worriedly, Steve turned once last time to look out the window and search for any sign of Natasha down below. To his frustration all he saw nothing but guards and seawater flooding the area they had just exited.

"She'll be fine." Clint assured him as he pushed harder on the throttle. "I know that look well – she has a plan. We'll probably see her in a couple of days."

"I hope so," Steve replied, his tone full of doubt. He braced himself as Clint banked a hard left and guided the jet into the looming storm clouds.

Feedback and comments always appreciated. :D


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the lovely kudos and encouragement. It really means a lot and motivates me to work faster. I hope you enjoy the following chapter :D

Buzzzz.

Natasha begrudgingly awoke to the sound of her phone vibrating underneath her ear and released an exhausted groan. Lifting her head enough to peel the pillowcase from her face, she cracked open one eyelid to read the message blazed across the screen in bold yellow letters.

 _' **ETA 10:42, -22.908333, -43.196389'**_

Thumping the phone back down onto the mattress, she swallowed thickly and buried her face back into the pillow in an attempt to squeeze out another morsel of sleep. Beyond the thick hotel curtains in her air-conditioned suite, the streets below were already abuzz with tourists and locals as they went about their morning shopping along the seaside market stalls.

Beep!Beep!Beep!

"Argggg!" Natasha snatched up her phone and silenced the shrilling alarm, tossing the offending device across the room in irritation. After a few more minutes of trying to blink the sleep from her mascara-crusted eyelashes, the red head released an irritated yawn and rolled on to her back. Her limbs were aching from the previous nights engagement and she was mindful of the tender skin throbbing in protest from the stitches binding the deep knife wound on her left side. With a frown, Natasha craned her neck to inspect the damage and realized with a disgusted grunt that her wound had bleed not just through her black satin camisole, but also on to the white hotel sheets.

 _You're getting sloppy, Romanoff_ , She chided while climbing out of bed. _Four years ago you never would have been this careless, otherwise you'd be dead. Being an Avenger has made you soft._ With a scowl, she slid the garment up over her head and tossed it onto the end of the bed. Now completely naked, she wandered over to her duffle bag and rummaged around inside it until she produced a black silk dressing gown. Additionally she found a few pieces of gauze and some tape. Once she was satisfied with the makeshift bandage pressed against her side, she slipped on the dressing gown, tied the sash loosely around her waist and placed a call to room service.

"You're meal will be ready and delivered in twenty minutes, ma'am."

"Thank you."

Hanging up, Natasha padded over to the French doors and drew the heavy brown material aside. Opening the balcony door, she stepped out in to the bright sunlight and squinted out at the dark blue water. Now that her current mission was over and the recovered blue vial was sealed securely in a padded steel briefcase behind her bedhead, she could relax ever so slightly and appreciate the beauty Rio de Janeiro offered while awaiting Fury's evac.

It had been five months now since she'd left her old teammates to flea the RAFT prison with Steve and not a day had gone by that she didn't think about them. The insidious red room trained assassin part of her mind cruelly mocked her for such distractions and for her lack of ability to compartmentalize the whole situation. She was the black widow. She worked alone. She didn't have time for regrets or fantasies or melancholy. She didn't need anyone or anything. She was not built for a life of camaraderie, trust or, dare she even think it; love. Love was for children and she had never had the luxury of being a child. Black widow was a weapon. Black widow was a shadow in the night. Black widow lived and died alone.

Yet, while she knew all this to be true, she could not stop the happier memories that flooded into her mind. Memories of laughter and friendship the Avengers shared during training sessions and social occasions. Natasha wondered how the motley crew of super heroes were coping with their Accords exile. She'd heard from Stark only once, the day after she helped Steve spring the rest of their teammates from the raft prison. In typical Stark tradition he'd been drunk and bitter while bemoaning about the fallout from the Accords and Rodney's rehab progress. Not once had he mentioned the absent Captain by name, except to make a crude joke about ice trays and melting the vibranium shield down into a phallic shape in order to shove it up an enhanced ass.

Natasha had listened to it all without commenting, letting the billionaire rage on until he had become quiet and contrite. She doubted Stark was as upset about having to pay the repair bill for the mess at the Leipzig airport as he was about Pepper's constant refusal to speak to him about anything other than the running of Stark Industries. When he eventually ran out of curse words and things to complain about, he sullenly asked her about the rumor that she was working for Fury again. Before she'd even had a chance to lie, he abruptly hung up. Natasha had considered calling Stark for days, but eventually settled for keeping her phone charged and her voicemail clear in case he needed to speak again; yet no call had come.

A sharp knock broke her free from her miserable thoughts. Instinctively she tucked a hidden 9mm glock into the pocket of her robe out of precaution rather than necessity. A quick glance in the keyhole identified the knock as room service and she swiftly applied the SHILED photostatic veil facemask to conceal her famous identify. Checking her now vastly different appearance in the hotel mirror, she forced a friendly smile and opened the door to allow the small silver trolley into her suite.

The eager young man made a show of laying out her order and beamed when she handed him a large a tip and a smile. He then backed out of the room with a bow and she locked the door behind him. The daily papers and magazines she ordered sat neatly beside a bowl of assorted fruit, hard-boiled eggs and a steaming pot of coffee. While pouring herself a large cup, she lifted the first gossip magazine and peered at the cover intently. Natasha had learned years ago that hacking a computer wasn't always necessary when you were trying to find the whereabouts of a target. These days the paparazzi where more often then not the easiest and most accurate at doing her dirty work. Sure enough, the front cover of one particular gossip rag boasted the details and current wareabouts of the one and only Captain America.

Flipping open to the correct page, she scanned the assorted glossy photos for her old teammates. The Captain's ever-faithful wingman, Sam Wilson, was present in a few of the photographs - more often then not hidden and overlooked in the background. Natasha studied the paranoid and annoyed expression on the younger man's face with some concern until her gaze fell upon the largest and most dominate shot in the middle of the page. Natasha's lips spread into a bemused smile. A flustered looking familiar brunette was attempting to hide her face behind the bulky shoulders of a bearded baseball cap wearing Steve Rogers. A quick examination of the packed streets and colorful storefronts confirmed that the location the exiled Avenger was attempting to flee was Paris. The article declared that the couple had been caught in the middle of a romantic date, one image placing emphasis on the couples clasped hands. The subheading boasted that the mystery girl (who Natasha knew without a doubt was actually Wanda) was Captain America's secret new lover. Natasha rolled her eyes as she continued to scan the article, scoffing as one paragraph speculated about Natasha's falling out with the super solider as a result of an unwanted pregnancy. Flicking to the next page, the article went on to explain that exclusive details provided by a 'source close to the pair' was that the two where shopping for wedding rings. Natasha tossed the magazine in to the trash and reached for the next as she took a bite of her fruit salad.

The next two magazines contained the same photos and speculations as the first, with only one including photos of a skinnier hung-over looking Tony Stark exiting the Avengers Tower. There was buzz about a failed love triangle between the Captain and Ironman that made her smirk and a small mention of Bruce Banner being suspected of working in Area 51. With no mention of Barton and his family Natasha relaxed, knowing that if he hadn't even been mentioned in the papers then they were safe.

By the time the hour approached to leave, Natasha had just finished stripping the bed. Packing the sheets and her bloody nightgown along with her meager belongings into her bag, Natasha was in the process of extracting the briefcase from behind the bedhead when a knock at her door stopped her cold. Despite being dressed casually like any other tourist, Natasha knew she had quick access to an assortment of knives and guns hidden beneath her clothing. She paused, hesitating by the door and briefly considering the balcony when the bus boy announced his purpose of a package delivery.

Suspicious, she opened the door slightly, her gun pressed behind the door as she viewed the young man who had delivered her breakfast. He smiled at her, handing her a white box with handwriting she instantly recognized. She lowered her gun, taking the package with one hand before nodding her thanks. Once she shut the door Natasha tore open the package, finding two envelopes and a small black burner phone nestled inside. One of envelopes contained the same handwriting as the box, and a smile lit her features as she read Clint's note.

' _You owe me a cold beer and an explanation next time we roast marshmallows. It's getting cold outside and there are cobwebs all over the garden. I saw an eagle build a nest but it didn't catch a fish. Don't be lazy, wear sunscreen and stay away from Budapest. -à_ '

The code was clear. To anyone who had intercepted the message other than Natasha would have no idea about what Clint was talking about. To her however, the message read of assurances that they were still friends, Laura and the kids were safe, he was in a safe house and that it had been next to impossible to track her down. The rest of the message included that the phone and other letter were from Steve, that she should be careful, that she should tell Fury that he sends his thanks, and that he disapproved of her working on her own again.

Tucking the letters inside her skirt pocket, she hid the phone in the inside lining of her handbag and ripped the box into a million pieces before tossing in into the wastebasket. Gathering her things, she exited the hotel room and made her way towards the lobby to pay her bill before heading out to her extraction point.

A little over an hour later, Natasha handed over the suitcase to Fury personally and was now seated comfortably at the back of the originally SHIELD designated plane. Knowing she had several hours of privacy to herself now that she had debriefed Fury with all the Intel she had gathered, the red head decided it was safe enough to read the letter from Steve. She stared at it for a few minutes, reacquainting herself with his sharp slanted handwriting and attempted to calm her nerves. Eventually the curiosity got the better of her and she gently opened the envelope and pulled out two pieces of paper. The first one was a short hand written note, while the other was a beautiful charcoal drawing. She held up the thick sketch paper, studying the stunning snow-capped mountains and dense forest surrounding a still lake, the surface reflecting a full moon. The landscape was stunning and she wondered if maybe it was a clue to his location. Turning to the letter, she began to read it, hearing his voice echoing in her head as her eyes traced over the words.

 _'Natasha-_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. With everything that happened the way it did I never got the chance to thank you. Everyone is safe now and in good hands – thanks to you. For a fleeting moment amongst the chaos I forgot about DC and for that I hope you'll forgive me. Maybe I'm in the wrong business after all._

 _Good luck, Nat. Be safe._

 _Always,_

 _\- Steve'_

She turned the piece of paper over in her hand and re-read the message a dozen times over, trying to determine if there was more or less being said in a few short sentences. Was this a final goodbye? Was he saying he never wanted to see her again? If that was the case, then why had he included a phone and a landscape picture? Had she missed something? Was he asking her to come find him? Or was he saying that he didn't want her as a friend after all?

"You know, if you stare at that any harder it might actually catch alight and I'd advise against it while we are hovering some 20,000 feet in the air." Natasha quickly shoved the letter back inside her jacket with an embarrassed flush to her cheeks. Fury slid in to the plush leather seat in front of her. He chuckled at her mortified expression and sat back casually, adjusting his leather jacket over his knees. "Never thought I'd see the day when I could make _you_ blush."

Natasha shrugged nonchalantly; attempting to avoid the steadfast gaze Fury was pinning her with. "So Boss, what's next on the agenda?" She asked brightly, desperately trying to pull focus away from being caught staring at Steve's letter.

"That depends on you."

"Me?" She cocked her left eyebrow up in surprise.

"If you're up for it?" He paused and waved a hand in the direction of the hip she was favoring due to her injury. She cringed inwardly. She had hoped he wouldn't notice. Shame burnt inside her chest, resulting in her defensive response.

"I'm up for anything. Name the place and the time."

Fury chuckled. "Of that, I have no doubt, but in this case I might have been too hasty in returning you back to business. You may be needed elsewhere."

Now thoroughly confused, Natasha studied the older man's face for an inkling as to what he was suggesting. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I'm doing you a favor, and as you well know by now I'm not in the business of giving out favours." He paused, taking a sip of the neat glass of scotch he held in his had. He spun the amber liquid around the glass. "It's time for you to go home, Natasha."

Scoffing, Natasha rolled her eyes and relaxed back in her chair relieved she wasn't being reprimanded for her injury. "I've never had a home to go to, Sir."

"Ok, let me rephrase that then." He leant forward in his seat and knocked his glass against her knee. "Get your ass off my plane and go find your team."

"There is no team," She started to protest lamely. "Not anymore."

Fury released a frustrated huff and leant back in his chair, sipping his drink again. Natasha sat awkwardly under the heat of his gaze before he finally spoke again. "I wouldn't be so sure of that."

"You're being as annoyingly cryptic as ever," Natasha admonished, crossing her legs angrily. She hated it when he played mind games with her of all people. He knew it irritated her and she thought they were well and truly past that faze of their working relationship. It vaguely occurred to her that the way she was avoiding his eye might come across as a grown woman sulking.

"You're not the first person to point that out of late."

Natasha sighed and flicked off a stray piece of lint on her skirt. "If it's all the same, Boss. I'd prefer to do my job."

"Your job has, and always will be, to keep the Avengers project as your first priority."

"But there is no _Avengers_ anymore-"

"Say's who?" Fury challenged fiercely. "A bunch of fat bellied paper pushers in government? Ha! Like I've ever paid any attention to what they've said. I built this team on the backs of their disapproval. They've never had the foresight or the intellect to understand the bigger picture."

"Sir?" Maria Hill materialized out of nowhere with a tablet in hand. Her hand was weaving over the surface of the hand held computer like she was a pianist composing a masterpiece. She acknowledged the redhead with a curt nod of her head. From what Natasha had gathered when she first met up with Fury again, Hill had defected back to working for Fury after she refused to have any dealings with the Accords. "We're clear to land when you're ready."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. Turning to the window beside her she lifted the small grey curtain and peeked outside. Snow capped mountains and a beautiful lake greeted her surprised eyes. She turned back to see the smug looking ex-director and shot him a wrathful look. "Do you ever tire of being the puppet master?" She asked, standing up and preparing to gather her things.

"You know the answer to that."

"Hmmm."

"Your move, Ramanoff."

With a disgruntled sigh and a shake of her head, Natasha pulled the duffle bag strap over her shoulder. She started to move down the isle when she stopped and turned back to Fury who was draining the last of his drink. "Thanks for the lift, Sir."

"Anytime."


	3. Chapter 3

Hi all! *waves* Thanks again for all the kudos and support. I really hope you like this chapter. Heads up, I don't play poker but I talked to someone who does and picked their brain, so if i've made any mistakes, my apologies! :D

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Steve stood panting at the top of the hill, his hands on his hips and his eyes trained on the glittering surface of the glassy lake below. His serum-enhanced eyes drank in the many shades of green and blue greedily, his hot breath punctuating the frigid morning air. It had been dark out when he'd left the others sleeping safely in their beds, and now as the sun began it's steep incline over the surrounding mountains the frozen dew had started to melt away.

The distinct sound of birds and other small creatures stirring filled his ears. Steve realized a part of him relished the absence of beeping taxi's and train carriages clattering away as they had done so in the crowded city back home. The brisk mountain air was also a godsend, the purity of clean oxygen filling his lungs and strengthening his restless muscles.

Yet despite the sanctuary in the hills he had come to call home for the last few months, he couldn't shake the feeling of agitation and boredom. With no training drills or briefings to fill his days anymore, he was left with nothing but books, cooking and chopping firewood. It was a simple life. A life he might of daydreamed about once upon a time in the cold muddy trenches of the First World War. He couldn't help but imagine what his younger naïve self would think about the life he was leading now. A man in exile; living with a group of superheros on the run from the world.

Steve loved the Avengers like he had loved the Howling Commandos back in the day. Only this new family was slightly different. Sam was becoming his closest friend, while Wanda had taken on the role of the younger sister he always wanted but never had. Even Scott, with his off brand humor and enthusiasm for pop culture, had found a place in his circle of trust. Yet, despite this, he felt the sting of absence from several other members of his team. Natasha, Clint, Vision, Rhodes and even Tony. He didn't know if he was ever going to see or hear from the billionaire again, but he hoped he would. He hoped he'd see them all again. Especially the striking redhead, who he harbored a growing fondness for since the day he'd fought side by side with her on the streets of New York. Not a day went by where he didn't check his phone to see if she'd called or messaged. He tried not to dwell on it too much. Clint had said he was struggling to find her after she went underground. Something about a real life _Where's Waldo?_

The blue-eyed captain hoped with every bone in his super serum body that she was safe. That she was alive and not injured or waiting for him to come find her. It bothered Steve a great deal how he'd left things. It bothered him more than he wanted to admit. He kept playing back that last few moments he'd spent with her. Her smile. The toss of her hair over her shoulder as she faced down those guards in the prison. The victorious sway of her hips. The way she seemed like she was trying to tell him something with those deep green eyes piercing the very depths of his battered soul. Steve swallowed thickly, rocking back and forth on his heels as he continued to immerse himself inside his most private thoughts.

He thought back to a moment in time in DC, when the two of them had sat in Sam's guest bedroom after having survived a HYDRA airstrike. She'd asked him if he trusted her with his life. He said he did. He had meant it at the time - he still did. Yet Steve knew his actions said otherwise. When it had counted most he had let her down. He'd let them both down. He had doubted her intentions for just a moment in the airport when she stood between his and Bucky's escape. It was one of the reasons he'd avoided her the entire battle. He hadn't wanted to fight her; it would eat away at his very being if he had to lay a single hand on her with ill intention. And it wasn't like he thought she couldn't fight back – he'd sparred with her many a time back on base. She could hold her own. She was capable of bringing him to his knees if he didn't maneuver his arm around her in time. And it certainly wasn't as if she wouldn't have forgiven him if he did hurt her. Steve knew that her reaction would be to tease him and tell him it was a battlefield, and just like she had forgiven Clint when he was under Loki's control, she would forgive him too. He could practically see the smirk she would give him in response to his apologies. But ultimately, the truth was; _he'd_ never forgiven himself. Which was why he focused his efforts on Stark and the freakishly agile and sturdy kid from Queens in the spider suit.

Steve heaved a sigh and nudged the small rock in front of him until it tumbled down the hill. In the end Natasha had surprised him, like she always did. In one gesture she'd proved that he was an idiot for doubting her motives for even the slightest second by helping them flee. He dared not think what would have happened to Bucky if King T'Challa and Stark had captured them all and brought them in. Steve humbly wondered if maybe it was a good thing Natasha hadn't called him. He obviously didn't deserve her as a friend. He wasn't worthy of her trust. Maybe he wasn't worthy of anybody's trust?

"You know the picture really doesn't do it justice."

Steve spun around. Standing in front of him, with the sunlight streaming across her fiery red hair was the very woman he'd been lamenting over. He gawked at her in disbelief. "Natasha?"

"Hey Solider."

A familiar teasing glint lit up her green eyes, her hip cocking confidently to one side. As she stood there smirking at him his heart embarrassingly skipped a beat. He suddenly realized just how much he'd been longing for the sound of her flirtatious banter since the start of the whole Accords mess.

Unable to control himself, he rushed up towards her, engulfing her in an exuberant bear hug that lifted her off her feet. His throat was suddenly thick with emotion and he could barely believe that she was there and that she was real.

"Woah!" She gasped out against his neck, squirming against his chest. He let go of her immediately, worried that he'd caused her pain. "It's ok." She assured him with a pat on his bicep. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong when she lifted the side of her shirt and showed him the blood stained bandage on her side. Steve's face fell and he instantly felt immense guilt and regret for being so exuberant with her. "Guess those bikini's are well and truly out of the question now," she joked.

Steve grimaced. "Are you ok?" He asked, eyes roaming over her body now in search of any other injuries he'd missed.

Natasha shrugged and smoothed her shirt back down. "You should see the other guys." She quipped and sent him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, really. Just getting sloppy in my old age."

Steve rolled his eyes. He doubted that even if she was ninety years old and confined to a hospital bed that she would still have no problems defending herself against an attacker. He'd seen lesser men cower under her glare alone.

Laughing at his skepticism, she reached up on her tiptoes to playfully tug on the end of his beard. "Loving the Sasquatch look, Rogers. You might need to wear fluro's outside though 'cos it's bear season." Natasha waggled her eyebrows. "You might get shot."

"Haha." Steve responded dryly, batting her hand away from his chin. "I missed your inane jokes." He lied in an attempt to regain a fraction of the dignity he'd abandoned when he greeted her so enthusiastically. He stepped backwards feeling a little self-conscious. The additional space gave him a chance to get a better look at her casual attire. Standing in front of him in a short floral skirt and white tennis shoes, Natasha looked so utterly _normal_ and unusual without her usual combination of leather and boots that it was almost off putting. He was so used to seeing her in her battle attire that seeing her like this made his brain short circuit.

Seemingly oblivious to his scrutinizing, she turned around, taking in the mountains and the trees with a low whistle on her pink lips. "It's not bad as far as safe houses go. Nicer than the rat's nests I've been staying in of late."

"Natasha," He implored, finally snapping out of it and taking hold of her elbow gently. It was almost surreal to realize she was really here, standing in front of him, teasing him like nothing had happened over the last few months – he had a million questions that all needed answering.

She tore her eyes away from the scenery and gazed up into his inquisitive eyes. Her smile was soft and assuring, but it did little to hold back the thundering wave of questions that were about to crash down upon her. He tried to ignore the way her smooth skin had begun to goose pimple under his rough hand as he realized he was still clutching at her elbow.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, forcing himself to let go of her arm.

"I was in the neighborhood," she responded casually with a shrug.

Steve found that hard to believe and judging by the way she smirked, he could only guess that his face reflected his thoughts. "How'd you find us, Nat? Or better yet, where did you go? Did you talk to Clint? Or Tony? How did you get off the raft? Does General Ross-"

Natasha interrupted him with a chuckle, and a piece of his heart warmed at the far too rare sound. She shoved him none to gently in the chest and bent down to pick up her duffle bag that she had dropped. "Geez Rogers, I see being on the run has ruined your good manners." She shoved her bag into his chest and made a move to push past him. "Must be the beard," she theorized, reaching up to tug at it again. He swatted her hand away and shot her a reprimanding look, but it only caused her smile to stretch wider. "Maybe that's why Starks such an asshole? It's the facial hair."

"Hilarious." He rolled his eyes and pointed to the red two-story house at the top of the next hill. "You should come up to the house. The others will be thrilled to see you." He swung her duffle bag over his shoulder and extended his hand in front of him to imply that she should lead the way up the well-worn path.

"Sure," she accepted with a toss of her hair over her shoulder. "And on the way, Rogers, you can tell me all about how you proposed. I didn't even know you two had kissed. Guess you must have taken my advice and started practicing."

Steve stopped short in his tracks, dread filling his stomach. _Did she know he had kissed Sharon? If she did then how on earth did she find out?_ His thoughts began to spin into a blur inside his head and it was all he could do to splutter, "Huh?" _Wait, did she say engaged? He wasn't engaged. Why did she think he was engaged to Sharon? It was one kiss! A thank you. An experiment. An…_

Natasha turned around, the teasing smirk now back with vengeance. A warm feeling spread through his stomach. That smile drove him insane. It made him want to reprimand her and kiss her all at the same time. He immediately shut down any further inappropriate thoughts and waited for her to answer him. "To Wanda," she finally explained, jabbing him in the chest. Steve continued to stare at her obliviously, completely baffled at her statement. "It's in all the papers, Steve. Captain American is a cradle snatcher, running off into the sunset with a mysterious brunette. What ever happened to Sharon?"

"Wha…I…?" Flabbergasted, Steve grabbed hold of Natasha's wrist and tugged her back towards him. The smile widened further and she twisted her wrist so that she successfully slipped out of his grasp. He stared at her, his eyes raking her face in an attempt to figure out what she was talking about. "I never-"

Looking far too amused at his distress, he glowered as she tugged at his beard again. "You've been a bad boy, Rogers. Dating two women? What a player you turned out to be." Natasha placed a hand on her chest in a dramatic fashion and beamed up at him. "I'm quite proud actually. It's like a mama bird watching her baby fly for the first time."

Steve huffed with aggravation knowing from experience that she was having far too much enjoyment at his expense and wasn't going to explain herself anytime soon. He rolled his eyes skyward. "I take it back, Romanoff," he growled, pushing past her and stomping up the track. He could hear her small footsteps trailing after him. "I haven't missed you at all."

"Aww come on, Rogers!" She called out after him. "Hate the game not the player!" Her laughter rang in the air, making his ears burn hot. "Wait! I can give you some pointers if you want? I've got a book that'll help you with some moves. It's even got pictures to help you-"

He whirled around and clamped a hand over her mouth to silence her. He gave her a pointed look. "You know what, Ramanoff?" He felt the moist touch of her tongue against his skin and he quickly dropped his hand and rubbed her spit off onto his shirt. He hoped to God she couldn't hear how loud his heart was beating against his chest. Steve tried desperately to keep the disapproving frown on his face, but her innocent grin and batting eyelashes was rapidly dissolving his intent. He shook his head ruefully. "How about we just walk in silence?"

She pretended to ponder the option for a beat, before stepping forward and hooking her arm into his elbow. "Lead the way, Cap." He raised an eyebrow in surprise at the familiarity she demonstrated in touching him so freely, yet couldn't deny how good it felt to be so close to her. He shot a questioning look at her, but she simply nudged him forward and he went along with her pretense of escorting her to the house.

"You're going to be the death of me, you know that right?" he murmured to her under his breath, attempting to begrudge her behavior. If he was honest with himself he might admit that he was delighted to be on the receiving end of her flirting again, but on the outside he attempted to maintain a presence of indifference.

"All in a days work," she retorted and he wondered if maybe her impromptu arrival was a sign that things were about to change for the better.

"Alright boys, the name of the game is Texas Hold 'Em." Natasha announced by stretching her hands out in front of her and cracking her knuckles. She picked up the deck of cards and dealt out two cards to each player seated around the small round table.

It had been a week since her unexpected arrival at the safe house and she was starting to settle in to her new life of laying low with four of her exiled teammates. Three of the four, Sam, Steve and Scott, were sitting at the table drinking beers, eating pretzels and attempting to goad one another as they played poker.

The fourth was sitting on the couch across the room reading her paperback and looking up occasionally to watch them play. Natasha shared a wink with Wanda, before clearing her throat and addressing those at the table. "Sam, you start us off."

"Call."

Natasha moved her gaze to the man sitting directly opposite her. "Steve?" she prompted.

The blonde glanced down at his cards, taking a moment to decide before responding confidently. "Call."

"Scott?"

"Yeah, I Call."

"And I check." Natasha proceeded to toss the first card from the top of the deck to the side, and carefully placed three cards - a six of hearts, a seven of hearts and a ten on hearts - in the middle of the table.

"Raise." Sam tossed two matchsticks in, (a substitute for actual poker chips), and sat back in his seat looking down with a look of intense concentration. While initially boasting at the start of the game that poker was his 'jam', the man had yet to win a single hand and was becoming increasingly disinterested in the game with each passing bottle of beer.

"Call," offered Steve, taking a sip of his own beer and pressing the cards he held face down on the table so that Natasha couldn't catch a peak at them. He met her questioning glance with a raised eyebrow and she smiled back innocently.

The last few days had passed quickly for Natasha as she had finally allowed herself to relax in her teammates company. She could see the strong bonds of camaraderie start to rebuild itself after the fallout from the Accords and it surprised her by how buoyant it made her feel.

"Ugh I suck at this," grunted Scott, already looking bitterly disappointed with his hand. He tilted his head from side to side in an attempt to make a plan for his next move. After a few minutes of stalling he sighed loudly. "I fold… again." He threw his cards down on the table in defeat.

Giving Scott a small sympathetic pat on his shoulder, Natasha leaded forward and announced, "Call", before tossing the top card off to the side and placing a new one face up in the middle. It was a king of spades.

"Check."

"Raise." Steve added two more matchsticks to the pile, triggering a groan from Sam.

"Dude!" Sam complained, pulling an exasperated face. He looked down at his remaining two matchsticks. "Give a brother a chance will you?"

"Sorry." Steve chuckled into his beer and turned back to find Natasha shaking her head in disapproval.

"You know the point of the game is to _not_ give yourself away, right?" She criticized the two friends and called, throwing her own matchsticks in to the middle of the table.

Sam followed in kind by throwing in two matches of his own, but not without shooting Steve a dirty look and muttering, "Call."

"Here, take some of mine." Steve tried to placate his friend by pushing his own matchsticks towards Sam as peace offering. Natasha tried to swallow her smile when Sam refused, flicking the sticks back to his friend in disgust.

"I don't need your charity, Steve. Just play your damn hand."

"You two ladies done?" Natasha teased, tossing the top card aside and placing the last card down. A jack of spades. "Or do you need a moment to work out your issues?"

"No issues here, I Check."

Steve grimaced, looking apologetic as he pushed three additional matchsticks into the middle. "Raise." He shrugged under Sam's glare. "Sorry."

Intrigued, Natasha turned her attention to the blonde Captain and studied him critically. If she wasn't mistaken, she could detect a sudden rigidness to his chest now. She narrowed her eyes, studying the man until she spotted his tell; his left eye crinkled slightly while looking down at his cards. _He finally has a good hand,_ Natasha thought to herself and stared at her own cards, calculating what her next move would be. She'd already won the last few rounds and was starting to grow tired of the game. It was probably for the best if she put them out of their misery and let one of them win, but she wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"You sure you want to raise, Rogers?" Natasha started, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow at her teammate. "You seem to be taking a big risk for a man whose got nothing."

Steve returned her look, his blue eyes flashing with a defiant challenge. Her stomach twisted in excitement. She loved that look. It said that he wasn't going to back down and that he was willing to do whatever it took at all costs. It was a look she often saw on the battlefield and it did very bad things to the lower region of her body.

"It's your move, Ramanoff."

"Oohhh." Scott crowed, turning to Sam with an excited grin. "Watch out, man. I think Cap's actually got a chance this time."

"Hmmm. I dunno. She has won the last four rounds." Sam warned and tossed a handful of pretzels in his mouth. "She's the master at this game. Remind me to take you with me to Vegas when we're not on the run from the world."

The redhead beamed at the appraisal before turning her attention back to Steve. She studied him for a moment, trying to determine if she could manipulate the man into folding despite the fact that he was most likely the one holding the better cards between the two.

Grinning, Natasha dropped her gaze to consult her cards casually. After a brief second she tossed several matchsticks into the pool. "I raise."

"Ugh," Sam moaned, finally giving up on having any chance of winning a hand. "I don't own a set of kahunas big enough to sit at this table." He tossed his cards down. "I fold."

Natasha turned her attention back to the man across from her, a coy smile lighting her features. "Just you and me now, Solider." She took a long sip off her beer, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips seductively. "You ready to put your money where your mouth is yet?"

"Depends on if you can afford it, Ma'am." Steve titled his head to the side, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "I Raise," he challenged.

A warm feeling flooded Natasha's thighs, and she was careful to maintain her ploy of using seduction on the blonde to throw him off his game and force him to fold. This was her game after all and things had finally started to get interesting.

"Alright then, handsome." She drawled. "I raise."

There was a slight falter in his blue eyes and Natasha suppressed the gloating smile. Moving into the next stage of her seduction tactic, she stretch her arms over her head in the pretense of being tired, knowing that his eyes were on her as she did so and could most likely see the expanse of creamy flesh and the start of her lace black bra. She knew lace was his weakness. She'd seen a variety of his reactions to her attire over the many years of having to attend one Stark charity ball after another. The strapless black lace dress she wore a year ago had rendered the man utterly speechless for almost an hour and he'd all but held her like she was a live grenade when she'd dragged him onto the dance floor.

Sure enough, she saw him shift in his chair and take a ridiculously long pull of his beer. "Raise," he all but gargled, the tops of his ears red with blush as he shoved more matchsticks in to the middle of the table.

 _Got him_ , Natasha thought victoriously and pretended to absentmindedly adjust her top lower while staring down at her cards. She knew without a doubt that he now had decent view of her bra peeking out of her shirt and that an ample amount of cleavage was now on display. She heard Sam snicker beside her and she kicked him under the table in warning without looking at him.

"Raise," She eventually announced, now sweeping her hair over to one side of her neck so that the other was now bare and exposed. She lowered her head slightly and used this as a chance to look at him through her lashes. "What's it going to be, Rogers?"

"Hmm," he started by clearing his throat. "Well my best guess is that you've got squat if you're pulling out all the stops," Steve pointed out, deliberately not looking anywhere other than her face. He picked up another handful of sticks and then threw them in while maintaining eye contact with her. "Raise."

Scott glanced from Natasha to Steve and then back again, trying in vain to read either one of them to determine who was going to win the game. "Man, this is some intense shit."

"Language," Natasha and Steve answered in sync.

The two shared a soft knowing grin with one another other before abruptly resuming their showdown stare. The energy in the room was practically sizzling as the two refused to back down to the other. Natasha felt her stomach bubble with anticipation, thoroughly enjoying the struggle for dominance against Steve. It was one of her favorite games to play with him and it wasn't often that they could do so outside of the sparring ring.

Natasha continued to study the man before her. The blue in his eyes was slightly darker than normal, with just the slight hint of green around the edges. She took note of his perfectly even breaths and the curve of his lips and struggled to find a weakness in the mask he was portraying. Her mind whirled, feeling alert and active for the first time in days. It was times like this that Natasha wondered if she'd finally met her match.

"I need another drink – this could go on for days," Sam complained, getting up from the tablet and heading into the kitchen to grab himself some more beer from the fridge.

Natasha raised her eyebrow at Steve, focusing solely on his pupils now. If she wasn't mistaken they were slightly more dilated then they had been at the start of the game. She adjusted her shoulders again, knowing her seduction tactics weren't going to work anymore and was now aiming for a show of flat out defiance. "Ready to loose again, Captain?"

Steve to his credit, didn't falter in meeting her challenge. He leveled the same confident stare back at her, his shoulders straightening and his jaw jutting forth with determination. Natasha had to hold back the inner groan at the sight. Finally after several beats of silence, Sam wandered back over to the table and Steve finally spoke. "Talk is cheap, Romanoff. Show me what you got."

"Why so eager, Rogers? You worried?"

"Of you? Never."

"The last man that said that to me didn't fare very well."

"Then he wasn't much of a man than was he?"

"And you are?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"OH MY GOD! Just show the damn cards!" Scott shouted, slamming his hands down on the table in frustration. "The suspense is killing me."

Natasha smirked and swept the remaining matchsticks she had left in to the middle of the table. "I'm all in."

There was a slight falter in Steve's expression; just the tiniest of a flicker in his jaw and Natasha knew she had him doubting his hand now. Her heart started to beat a little faster with anticipation. On the outside her expression remained the same as it had been throughout the game. No one except Wanda, who was chuckling behind her book, had any idea that the redhead was starting to doubt if she could actually make the super solider fold.

"I call." He eventually said after a quick consultation of his cards and slid his remaining sticks in with hers. He sat back in his chair confidently and waved at her to go ahead.

Natasha tilted her head to the side, never once giving away that she had a losing hand of cards. They locked eyes again and she could see the frustration in his gaze this time as he tried his hardest to read her. She only smiled, making sure she batted her eyelids ever so slowly. She caught the slight bob in his adam's apple.

"Ready?" he asked while leaning forward slightly.

"Always."

He faltered for a moment before finally placing his cards down on the table. It was an eight and nine of hearts. "Straight flush." He watched her anxiously for any sign of an indication as to what her reaction would be, but all she did was nod.

"That's cute." She remarked and his chest deflated thinking she'd bested him. Again.

"Good try man," Scott groaned, consoling Steve with sympathetic shrug.

"I told ya'll, she's the Master," Sam pointed out, moving forward to start packing up the cards.

"Well, I'll give you this, Steve." Natasha said, nodding her head in approval. "I didn't think you had the stones."

Sam stopped what he was doing. All eyes turned towards her as she slowly lowered her cards down one at a time. A jack of hearts… and queen of diamonds.

"You won!" Scott exclaimed, jumping up from the table, beer and pretzels spilling everywhere. He ran over to Steve's side and patted his back in congratulations as the super solider sat dumbfounded. He looked at his own cards and then hers again. As it started to finally dawn on him that he had indeed beat her a grin slowly spread across his whole face.

"Huh." He remarked looking up at her in disbelief. She was now openly smiling at him and bowed her head in respect.

"Huh? That's all you've got to say? Huh?! You kicked her ass, man!" Scott whooped and grabbed his beer up from the table and held it up as if he was making a toast. "That was the meanest game of poker I've ever witnessed – I think I'm actually sweaty right now."

"Well played, man."

"Thanks." Steve beamed and gathered up all the matchsticks and put them back away in the box. Everyone stood up from the table and moved on to get more beer or go to the bathroom.

Wanda was watching them all and shaking her head again. "It's like watching a game of chess," she told the redhead while curling her feet under her legs so that Natasha could flop down on the couch beside her. "I thought you had him for a moment there."

"So did I," Nat agreed and smiled in thanks as Steve offered her a fresh consolatory beer.

"Good game," he complimented, taking a seat opposite them.

"You're getting better." Natasha praised while taking a sip of her drink. "Pretty soon you'll be better than me."

The blonde shook his head vehemently. "Not a chance." He looked over at Wanda and noted the book in her hand. "That any good?"

The young woman shrugged and placed a bookmark inside the pages and closed it. "I've read it before," she said and tucked the book beside her so she could turn to Natasha. "Had you heard anything from the others before you came here?" Natasha could tell Wanda was trying her best to sound nonchalant about it. It was no secret to Natasha that Wanda and Vision had grown considerably close during their time at the Avengers training facility. She thought it was sweet how well they suited each other and couldn't help but hope that the two found their way back to each other eventually.

"Not really. I only know that Vision is back at the facility with Rhodes. I'd say it's a safe bet that he misses you deeply." She reached over and squeezed the younger woman's knee. "When I left he was staring at the chess board you gave him for Christmas."

Wanda nodded sadly, her cheeks flushing red slightly. "Oh." She stared down at the rings adorning her hands and twisted one of them back and forth vigorously. "I imagine he must be very lonely right now."

"I'm sure Tony is keeping an eye on him," Steve interjected with a sympathetic look on his face.

"Yeah." Wanda turned away from them, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair. "I… ah… I think I'm just going to head up to bed." She said softly, standing up quickly and gathering up her book and throw blanket.

Steve threw a worried glance over to Natasha and made a move to get up, but the redhead waved him off and shook her head. Now was not the time for him to push her to talk. Natasha knew enough about the younger woman to know that she wanted to be alone and would not appreciate either of them smothering her.

"Night," Wanda said, oblivious to their exchange and waved half heartedly to Sam as she passed the kitchen.

"Night," Natasha called after her softly, her face twisted in concern for the young woman as she hurried upstairs.

"Poor kid," Steve spoke up once he heard the door shut upstairs. He got up from his chair and came and took the seat Wanda had just vacated. Natasha looked up at him in surprise.

"She's not really a kid, Steve. She's older than you when you first joined the army."

"That's different," he protested with a defiant shake of his head.

"Why?" Natasha balked. "Because she's a girl?"

"No, because of everything she's lost. First her brother and now Vision." Natasha nodded, the defensive feeling receding back into her body. The weeks following Pietro's death had been a dark and despondent time for Wanda in the Avengers facility. Both Natasha and Steve had spent late nights trying to console the girl as she grieved for her twin, and had worked consecutively to make sure she showered and ate everyday. Vision had been the first one to make her laugh and after that life had started to develop into some kind of new normal for the teammates.

Natasha leant her head back on the cushions and stared up at the wooden beams on the ceiling deep in though. "You going to be hanging around for a while?" Came Steve's soft question.

Natasha turned her head to the side and looked at the man sitting beside her. He was picking at a stray piece of cotton thread on the pillow underneath him. If she hadn't been paying attention she might have missed his question. Even now he gave no indication that he had asked her anything.

"I think so," she answered with a half-hearted shrug of her shoulders. "I'm not sure yet, I'm still trying to figure out what my next move is." She paused and waited until he raised his eyes up to meet hers. What she saw there was uncertainty, nervousness and a just a little bit of hope. "Do you want me to stay?"

It was almost like being back in the truck on their way to the base in New Jersey. She was on his right side, looking over at him and asking him who he wanted her to be. Back then he'd answered 'a friend' and she hadn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Had she wanted him to say something else? Why did a friend sound so much like a death sentence? Friendship was a big step for her. She didn't have many 'friends'. She should have been thrilled at the prospect of being Steve Rogers friend – who wouldn't want to be know as Captain America's friend? Friendship meant trust and she could count the amount of people who trusted her and she them on one hand.

He seemed to consider her answer with a great deal of thought. "I think it would be a good idea if you stayed." He finally said, dropping his eyes and going back to picking at the stray piece of cotton. "I know Wanda would like it."

 _Ouch_. "Just Wanda, huh?" she replied, with a roll of her eyes. Disappointment flooded her system and she suddenly felt the desire to be anywhere in the world other than in the same room as the clueless blonde.

Picking up the pillow beside her, she tossed it at him irritably. It hit him square in the face and bounced off on to the floor. "Good night, Rogers." She placed her full bottle of beer on the table, and headed upstairs feeling ridiculous for the sudden sting of rejection prickling her heart. _So Wanda wants me to stay… but not him. Fine, I don't care,_ she thought bitterly. Whatever answer she'd been expecting from him that hadn't been it, and yet as she reached her bedroom at the end of the hall, she couldn't help but realize she had no one but herself to blame for thinking he would say anything different.

* * *

Note:

There might be a slight delay in the next chapter by a week or so as I start finals next week (nooooooo!) but then i'll be back to posting more regularly.


	4. Chapter 4

NOTES: I'm sorry for the delay my lovelies. Work comes before play I'm afraid :D Thank you all for the kudos and encouragement. This chapter is a little bit steamier and I hope you all enjoy it. The relationship is definitely building - full steam ahead. Let me know if you have any thoughts or queries.

* * *

Steve was awoken from a light doze by the sound of bare feet tiptoeing past his bedroom door. Sitting up, he glanced at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table and frowned.

 _2:45am._

Curious, he swept his covers aside and crept towards his bedroom door. His keen senses detected that whoever was now walking down the staircase was light in weight and was making an effort to avoid any of the creaking floorboards.

He cocked his head to one side, holding his breath, and waited. Nothing. He leaned closer to the door, trying to determine the purpose of the late night prowlers' excursion downstairs.

 _Click._

Steve recognized the sound of the light being switched on in the kitchen, followed shortly by a tinkling of glass as it was removed from the overhead cabinet. A beat later and the Captain identified the suckling gasp of a refrigerator door being opened, accompanied by glass bottles being jostled against one another.

Relief flooded his taunt muscles. There was no threat. Shifting his hands to rest on his sweat pant clad hips, he wrestled with the decision to go back to bed or to join whomever it was downstairs. If Wanda was up and walking around it was most likely due to her reoccurring nightmares; all the more reason why he should go downstairs and check on her. However, if it were Natasha in the kitchen, than he knew better than to invade her privacy. Steve had learned early on in their friendship that she liked her space - especially late at night - and she didn't take too kindly to his probing questions about her well-being.

Deciding to take his chances, he pulled on a soft white t-shirt and headed downstairs. The house was dark, save for the warm yellow light spilling out from the kitchen. Steve made a show of scuffling his feet to alert whoever was downstairs so as to not surprise them. The last thing he needed was a startled scream from Wanda rousing the others from their beds. He entered the kitchen… only to find it completely empty.

"Over here, Sasquatch."

He turned around, squinting in to the darkness until he located the source of the voice. Natasha was seated on the cushioned bay window, sipping from a glass of water, dressed in what appeared to be a short silk bathrobe. Steve carefully navigated his way around the couches and a coffee table. "You okay?" he asked with a concerned tilt of his head.

She looked tired, the lack of makeup and messy bed hair giving her a youthful and vulnerable look. Steve knew better though - there was nothing remotely vulnerable about Natasha Romanoff.

"I'm fine, I just couldn't sleep," she answered, leaning her head back against the window and staring outside. Steve hesitated. There was the slightest hint of distress in her tone and her forehead was creased with concentration. There was something about her tense body language that troubled him. Throwing caution to the wind, he perched himself by her feet on the edge of the window seat.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Natasha huffed a laugh, turning to look at him. Her light green eyes were full of mockery as she responded, "You just can't help yourself can you? Mother Goose always fussing over her goslings." A wry smile tugged at her lips as she took a small sip from her glass.

"Yeah, well, its part of the job description," he defended with a shrug of his shoulders. He wasn't disconcerted by her accusation. They'd had this same conversation many a time before. He was always going to worry about his friends and teammates. That was just how he was built. It was in his DNA. Even pre-serum Steve had always looked out for those he cared about. The only difference now was that he had the strength and power to do something about it.

"It's too quiet," she abruptly said after a long quiet pause. She gestured to the rooms upstairs. "It keeps me on edge."

Steve nodded with understanding. He'd felt the same way the first week they had arrived at the safe house. With no hum of people coming and going like they had in the Avengers facility, the silence had been off putting. Now, being so high up in the mountains on a large acreage of land meant there was no pollution of noise from the small town below. Eventually, after a few restless nights, Steve learned to acclimatize to the stillness, and could now fall asleep with the knowledge that he'd be the first to hear any incoming danger.

"Do you want me to put the television on?" he offered, standing up to hunt for the remote. He'd seen it earlier in the night resting on the armchair closest to the stairs. Before he could move very far, she grasped hold of his wrist. He paused, surprised by the strength of her grip and the sharpness of her fingernails digging in to his palm.

"No, don't," she objected and tugged him to sit back down. "It'll just wake the others." She shuffled backwards a little, inviting him to sit more comfortably on the narrow seat.

"I doubt it could wake, Lang or Wanda," he joked, wiggling backwards until his back was pressed up against the window. He felt the sting of the cold surface through his flimsy t-shirt material and adjusted his shoulders back and forth until he adjusted to the cool glass. "They both sleep like the dead."

Natasha snorted and reclined back against the cushions, stretching her legs out in front of her. Steve was surprised when she deposited her feet none too gently on to his lap.

He glanced down at the smooth creamy limbs before raising his eyes to her face. She grinned back, her expression clearly challenging him to make her to move.

He didn't.

"So how far did I get before you heard me?" she asked, wiggling her red painted toenails at him. He found himself completely fascinated by the perfectly polished digits. He'd never seen her bare feet before. Even in the gym while sparring she'd worn socks or sneakers. He wondered if she ever went into battle wearing painted toenails beneath those thick black combat boots. Were they always red? Why weren't her fingernails painted as well like Wanda? Were there other parts of her lower half that didn't match the top half?

"Steve?" Natasha prompted, snapping him from his thoughts. Steve flushed red with embarrassment at being caught out staring at her feet. He madly tried to recall her last question. Something about hearing her…?

"Oh… err, I heard you walk past my bedroom door."

"Nuts," she clicked her fingers together in disappointment. "I must be getting sloppy in my old age."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Hardly," he assured her, tearing his eyes away from her feet. Why was he so fascinated? He wasn't one of those creepy foot fetish people was he? He never noticed people's feet before. Why was the sight of her pointed red toes distracting him so much? Steve thought he knew the answer, but wasn't quite ready to accept it yet and so he turned his attention swiftly back to their conversation. "You're still the master spy - I didn't even hear you get out of bed or open your door."

Natasha pretended to gasp in horror. "Oh no, does that mean I need to get you a pair of hearing aids after all, Grandpa Rogers?" she mercilessly teased him.

Always with the grandpa jokes. Every time he thought she'd run out of ways to make fun of him, she found a new way to tease him about his age. "Watch it, Romanoff," he warned pointing a threatening finger at her. "I may be old but I can still run circles around you."

The redhead responded by sticking her tongue out cheekily.

Steve shook his head in amusement and dropped his hand back down to rest on the tops of her ankles. They were ice cold. "You're feet are freezing! Are you cold?" he exclaimed, covering the tops of her feet with both of his hands in concern. He felt her toes flex underneath his palms, the cold limbs seeking out the warmth his hands offered.

"Not if you keep doing that," she answered truthfully and released an appreciative sigh when he responded by rubbing her arctic skin back and forth with the palm of his hands. "That feels nice." He increased the pace and used his thumbs to massage the pressure points on the balls of her feet in order to improve the circulation.

Natasha moaned in response to his ministrations.

Suddenly finding it difficult to swallow the mouthful of saliva that he'd produced at the sound of her deep throaty moan, Steve forced himself to concentrate on increasing the blood flow now to the bottom of her heels. He refused to look at her face. Instead he took note of the way her pinkie toes flexed ever so slightly when he increased pressure to the arches of her feet.

"So where in the world did Captain America learn how to massage a woman's feet so well?" Natasha inquired after several beats of silence.

Steve was about to answer when she released another long appreciative moan in response the change in pressure he applied when he dragged his knuckles from her heel to her toes. He glanced sideways in time to see her eyes flutter shut and felt a swell of pride in his chest. Who knew that he could reduce the Black Widow to a purring kitten with just a few applications of pressure? He shamelessly bookmarked the sight of her blissed out expression for future lonely night uses.

Clearing his throat in order to direct his thoughts back to a much safer territory, Steve turned his attention back to answering her question. "Umm, back when I was a kid. My Ma worked long hours and seeing as I couldn't do much in the way of helping her provide for us, I used to rub her feet when she came home from work." He ignored the familiar pang of sadness as he recalled memories of his poor mother and the hard life she had led before she had passed away.

Some days it killed him that his mother hadn't lived long enough to see what he had become. He wondered what Sarah Rogers would think of her wheezing, sickly little boy growing up to become an Avenger thanks to Erskine's super solider serum. Would she have been proud? Would it have made all her sacrifices worthwhile? What would she think if she could see him right now at this very moment?

A grin surfaced as Steve imagined what the strict Irish-Catholic woman would have say about finding her son rubbing a woman's feet that he wasn't courting or related to.

"What?" Natasha asked, her eyes open again and looking intrigued as to the source of the expression on his face.

"Nothin'," he replied, unable to stop his smile from growing wider. He could hear his mothers voice in his head as she scolded him for being so forward and inappropriate with a woman he wasn't married to. It was the very same lecture she had given Bucky back in the day after she caught his roguish friend kissing Patricia O'Connell behind her fathers shop. Steve recalled fondly of how Bucky had begged her not to tell his own mother, but Sarah Rogers wouldn't hear of such nonsense and dragged him by the ear all the way back to their apartment block and threatened to box his ears if he didn't start behaving like a gentleman.

"Spill, Rogers," Natasha demanded, her eyes narrowing. When he didn't immediately answer she pouted and used the foot to poke him in protest.

Steve found himself chuckling at the sight of her petulant pout and instantly surrendered. "Fine, but you'll only call me an old fuddy duddy or some other nonsense."

"No, I wont," she promised, batting her eyelashes.

Rolling his eyes, Steve shook his head at her before explaining his earlier expression. "I was just thinking how scandalized my Ma would have been if she saw me engaging in such provocative behavior with a woman I wasn't married to."

Natasha eyebrows shot up in surprise. "All you're doing is rubbing my feet," she protested, looking puzzled. "It's not like your hands were double clicking the mouse or anything."

Now it was Steve's turn to look bewildered. "Double clicking the _what_?" he asked in disbelief. She opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a hurried wave of his hand. "Never mind, I can put two and two together." He shook his head in dismay. The blush that was staining his cheeks was now beginning to feel like a sunburn. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation with her. It was a heady mix of awkward and thrilling. "What a horrible expression for something so… so… _intimate_."

He knew he was in trouble the minute he spotted the sly grin tugging at her lips. She raised her glass of water to her mouth before saying, "I'm surprised you even know what intimate is, Rogers," and she took a sip. When she lowered the cup she licked her lips in a provocative way, her eyes never leaving his.

Steve attempted to look indignant but knew he was failing hopelessly. Dammit, why did those red lips have to look so inviting and lush? He cleared his throat. "We've been through this, I'm not some 95 year old monk, you know."

"Might as well be," she quipped, tilting her head to the side. "Have you even made it to second base with anyone lately?"

Steve frowned. "Just because I'm not some womanizing playboy doesn't mean I don't know a thing or two about how to take care of a Dame," Steve retorted growing flustered.

He felt the heat of his blush moving up towards his ears and was eternally grateful for the low lighting in the room. He hated when she teased him for his lack of experience with woman. It suddenly made him feel like he was back to the scrawny stuttering Steve Rogers he was before the serum. The same awkward, short wheezing boy who was dragged on to dates thanks to his much more good-looking and Sauvé best friend, who only ever served to repulse and bore the pretty girls stuck with him. The very thought of going back to that life, that helplessness runt of a kid, secretly terrified him.

"The very fact that you just said ' _Dame'_ proves my point," Natasha responded, looking all the more like the Cheshire Cat from the children's movie she had made him watch the year before.

"Maybe I just have a healthy dose of respect for the opposite sex," he defended hotly. "Something kids these day could really do a little more with."

"Spoken truly like the old man you are."

"Yeah well… _shut up_ ," he conceded lamely. He returned his attention back to rubbing the soles of her feet. Any further teasing from her was abruptly ended as she moaned in gratitude. Steve grinned. If only he had of thought of this earlier as a way to combat her endless taunts.

He ran one hand under her Achilles tendon and used his other hand to push backwards and flex her foot, successfully stretching her muscles. It must have been a pleasurable sensation judging by her gasp and following groan. He repeated the same steps on her other foot and gained the same response. Grinning from ear to ear, Steve continued his ministrations as she all but purred in reaction to the increased pressure on her heels.

"Keep this up, Rogers, and I might just have found a reason to keep you around full time," she mumbled, her eyes falling closed again. She released a satisfied sigh.

"Good to know," Steve chuckled and pushed away the rising feeling of excitement churning away his stomach. After several quite minutes, he glanced over at her again and was pleased to find that her body had completely relaxed and her hands were now limply holding on to her glass of water. He'd never seen her so at peace and satisfied.

"Don't let it go to your head," she muttered distantly, sounding more and more like she was falling asleep. Her head was now tilting slightly to the side as if she was about to nod off and he slowed his pace. Her chest was now rising and falling in steady even breaths. He stopped massaging and patted her feet to indicate he was finished.

"Come on, time for bed."

She didn't open her eyes, but her drowsy smile said it all as she mumbled, "Why Steve, what would your mother say?" He laughed and shook her leg to rouse her. She frowned and wiggled her feet imploringly. "Five more minutes."

"Nat, you look two seconds away from a deep sleep."

"Five more minutes," she grunted, her eyes still closed. "Please?"

"Come on," he urged, still trying to rouse her. "You'll thank me in the morning when your neck isn't stiff from sleeping in a slumped position all night." He lifted her legs and gently put them on the floor and stood up. She screwed her nose up and it warmed his heart to see how adorable it looked. He took the glass from her hands and placed it on the coffee table. When he returned to her side she still hadn't moved or opened her eyes. "You're being stubborn," he told her and tugged on her hands. "Don't make me carry you."

"Try and carry me and I'll break both your legs," she warned. After a few more tugs of her arms, she opened her eyes with an overly dramatic sigh and allowed him to tug her to her feet. She looked up at him sleepily. "Spoil sport."

"Yeah, yeah. Off you go, solider. March." He pushed her towards the staircase and she shot him a sleepy glare but walked off regardless. When she reached the stairs, she looked back to see if he was following her. He pointed to her bedroom and she smirked and gave him a salute.

"Are you sure you don't want to join me? I promise I wont tell your Mom."

"Goodnight, Natasha." Steve retorted, attempting to sound stern but failing miserably as she sashayed up the stairs. He waited until she reached the top of the staircase before turning off the light in the kitchen. Once he heard her bedroom door close, he headed upstairs and let himself back in to his room.

He shook his head as he climbed back in to bed and pulled the covers over him. He had no doubt as he settled on to his back, that his dreams tonight were going to require a cold shower in the morning thanks to her moaning earlier. He closed his eyes.

Natasha Romanoff was definitely going to be the death of him… but oh, what a way to go.

* * *

The next morning Natasha awoke from a deep sleep to gloriously warm sunshine streaming across her face. Grinning, she stretched her limbs luxuriously before rolling out of bed. She was pleased to see upon inspection of her side that her stab wound from a couple of days ago had completely healed. All that remained now was a tiny ghost of a scar marring her pale skin.

After changing out of her pajamas and in to some work out attire, Natasha tied her hair back into a tight ponytail. When she was done smoothing back any stray strands of hair, she made her bed and left her room. She couldn't recall the last time she had felt so refreshed as she made her way downstairs and into the bustling kitchen. Sam was at the hotplate cooking breakfast, while Scott and Wanda were seated at the small table drinking coffee and reading. Natasha greeted everyone warmly and poured herself a juice from the pitcher in the middle of the table.

"Where's the energizer bunny?" Natasha asked Sam, pinching a piece of bacon off the top of a cooling plate sitting beside the hotplate.

"I think I heard him in the shower earlier," Sam answered, covering the lid of the pan when the bacon began to spit hot grease towards him. He turned his head and having caught sight of the man in question, motioned towards the freshly showered blonde. "Speak of the devil - you want some breakfast, man?"

"Morning!" Steve greeted brightly. "Breakfast sounds good; thanks, Sam." He cast a friendly smile towards Natasha as he headed for the refrigerator. "Did you get enough sleep once you went back to bed?" he asked, retrieving a bottle of water.

Natasha pretended not to notice the curious look Sam sported upon hearing Steve's question; nor did she acknowledge the knowing smirk Wanda was trying to cover behind a coffee mug. Scott was completely oblivious as he continued to read the comic strips printed in his newspaper. "Good," she told Steve, trying to sound flippant. When she thought the others weren't looking, she shot the blonde a warning glance. "You?"

"Yeah, I slept fine once I knew there was no one roaming around the house in the middle of the night," he said, draining most of the water bottle in one gulp. His eyes shone with amusement as he looked at her over the bottle. She rolled her eyes. Taking the hint that she didn't want their late night foot rub to be public knowledge, he turned away from her and angled himself around Sam in order to steal a piece of bacon. "Smells good, Sam. I'm starving."

"You're always starving," Sam retorted and motioned to Natasha to come closer. "You better get in and grab some before the bottomless pit eats it all."

"It's not my fault the serum keeps my metabolism at peak condition." Steve grabbed two plates from the cabinet and handed one to Natasha, but she shook her head, declining the offer.

"No, thanks. I'm going to go for a run first." She finished off her juice, and placed her empty glass in the sink. "Catch you kids later!"

Natasha left her teammates in the kitchen and exited the house, pausing for only a moment at the foot of the stairs to inhale a lung full of crisp morning air. The overwhelming scent of pine trees and wet earth tickled her nostrils. It reminded the redhead fondly of Clint's farm. She wondered how they were doing now that Clint was reunited with his worried family. There was no doubt in her mind that he'd already relocated them to another safe house. The note she'd received from him in Rio had indicated he had. Natasha hoped the kids weren't too distressed having been taken out of school away from their friends for who knew how long.

Stretching her legs and arms, Natasha bounced up and down on the balls of her feet a few time in preparation for a long run. It had been a while since she had run on something other than concrete or a running track such as the ones back at the Avengers facility and she relished the chance to challenge herself. After a few more minutes of rotating her ankles and stretching her calves, the spy finally took off down the dirt track that wound around the property.

It wasn't long before she found herself enjoying the rush of endorphins and the feel of solid earth beneath her shoes. The terrain was rockier in places around the lake than she would have liked, but it only served to help her focus; her attention divided only between her footing and her breathing. After a while the track flattened out again and she detoured from the lakes edge to the forest at the base of the mountains. It wasn't long before her thoughts returned to the reoccurring nightmare that had forced her from her bed the night before.

The nightmare was unlike all the others she had experienced over the years. There were no shadowy figures lurking in the background, no flashbacks to her days in the Red Room, no surgical gloves, no gunshots. She had just been swimming…

At least that's how it always started.

 _She was in the Avengers facility, swimming laps in the Olympic sized pool. Her breathing was steady, her strokes effortless, until she started to feel like she was being watched. In the nightmare she reaches the end of the pool; turning her head ever so slightly to see who is watching her so intently. It's Steve. The blue-eyed blonde is standing by the benches and smiling. She smiles back, calling out to him as him strides towards her. It's only now that she realizes he is dressed in his dark blue stealth uniform. Natasha tilts her head intrigued, asking him what he is dressed in his old SHIELD uniform. He reaches the edge of the pool and before she can say anything more he moves like lightning, darting forward to violently shove her head under water. She fights against his grip on her hair, attempting to swim away from him, but he grabs hold of her neck and squeezes. She kicks out against the wall of the pool and claws at his hands. Her lungs feel like they are on fire. What is he doing? Is he trying to kill her? Why now?_

 _His hands dig into her windpipe and she cannot stop herself from inhaling a mouth full of chlorinated water. She starts to panic. There's no way out. She can't break free. He's too strong. She's going to drown. Steve Rogers is going to kill her._

 _Suddenly, he releases his hold on her neck and drags her head up out of the water. She gratefully takes the chance to gulp in several lung fulls of air. Blinking water from her eyes, she squints and looks up at him, trying to discern why he's trying to kill her. Only it's not Steve who is holding her painfully by a fist full of hair._

 _It's Rumlow._

 _The HYDRA agents face is covered in swollen burn scars and a multitude of weeping stitches. He's saying something to her but she can't quite make it out. Instead, she clamps down on his arm and uses all her body weight to throw off his balance and drag him in to the water with her. He tumbles in head first with a grunt. She kicks him in the sternum and the neck and frantically swims back to the edge of the pool. She can feel him splashing after her and when he's close enough she drives her heel into his nose in order to boost herself out of the water. Choking and spluttering, she pushes herself up on to her feet, readying herself for another attack, but she's forced to drop her fists in disbelief._

 _The surface of the pool is now covered in a solid foot of thick ice._

 _Confused and anxious, Natasha stumbles backwards for the gun that she has stashed underneath the bench by her discarded towel. She yanks it free and turns back to the frozen pool, gun cocked and at the ready. Peering over the edge she spots Rumlow's dark figure thrashing about underneath the ice, his fists pounding at the surface furiously._

 _She leans further over the edge of the pool, her heart beating wildly. There's a flash of blue material underneath the ice and she squints, the chlorine burning her eyes. She gasps out loud when she suddenly recognizes the red, blue and white uniform and a blonde head of hair. Horrified, Natasha scrambles down on to the slippery ice. She can now clearly see it is Steve under the ice fighting for air – not Rumlow._

 _Desperate to break the surface of the ice, she aims and tries to fire her gun beside Steve's thrashing body- but nothing happens. The chambers of the gun are empty._

 _Natasha drops to her knees, using the handle of the gun to chip way at some of the ice. She barely makes a scratch in the solid surface. The ice is just too thick._

 _Steve's face surfaces below her hands and she can feel him madly pounding on the other side of the ice. His eyes are wide open, his face twisted in panic. She screams at him to hold on, but no sound comes out of her mouth. She tries again, but she has lost her voice._

 _Panic makes her lungs constrict and she begins to frantically claw at the ice with her bare hands. Her nails break and begin to bleed from her futile scratching, but she refuses to give up. Natasha switches to throwing her body against the ice, pushing, punching, stamping, and begging him to hold on. She looks around the room desperately, looking for anything or anyone to help her._

 _His eyes start to flutter closed and he's stop pounding against the ice. Natasha knows he's run out of air and is slowly drowning. No! She screams soundlessly. She continues pawing at the ice, tears streaming down her face now. She yells his name as his eyes drift close. The water below darkens as he starts to sink. She is sobbing, still pounding against the ice with her bloodied fists when Rumlow appears beside her. He reeks of burnt flesh. "You did this," he leers, bending down to hiss in her ear. "You killed Captain America. That's his blood on your hands. Your ledger will never stop dripping with blood. You're a murderer… a monster."_

 _She turns to grab Rumlow by the neck to silence his taunts only to find that she is now holding the neck of her younger 18-year-old self. She is dressed all in black. It was the day after graduation when she'd first donned the black leather suit for the first time. Her younger self is smirking. Natasha releases hold of the girl's neck in shock. The smirk turns deadly as the younger black widow raises her gun to Natasha's head and fires…_

… And that's when she wakes up, completely covered in sweat and her heart pounding against her rib cage.

Natasha slowed down to a walking pace and eventually stops to lean against a tree; her lungs burn with the effort of having run so fast. A cramp lances her side, and she bends in half, trying to breath deeply through her nose despite the pain it causes. After a few minutes of struggling, the pain eases and she makes her way out of the forest and over to the large boulder half emerged in water at the edge of the lake.

She rests against the hard surface momentarily; trying to even out her heart beat and pushes back against the exhaustion clinging to her wobbly legs. Inserting one foot on a small outcrop, she reaches up and pulls herself vertically, climbing up the side of the boulder. Once she reaches the top she looks for an area flat enough that she can spread her legs out and sits down. She unzips her jacket, pulling it off and the air is delightfully cool against her sweat stained skin.

She knows she's over done it. Natasha runs a hand through her sweat dampened hair and releases her tight ponytail. After a few minutes of massaging her skull where the elastic band had sat, she lies back against the boulders smooth surface and stares up at the sky. Fluffy white clouds drift along lazily in the iridescent blue sky and she looses herself in her thoughts again.

Her fellow teammates and their current situation take up the majority of her contemplations now. They all seemed to be adjusting well enough to being on the run, despite the overbearing sense of anxiety and hesitation for what could happen next. She didn't blame them. She felt the exact same way. Natasha had never been good at being idle. While she was perfectly capable to unwinding and enjoying some downtime after a hard mission, she had always enjoyed returning to her real life, her work life, and was always ready for the next adventure. _But this?_ This was more than just exile – this was a pause button.

The spy had been in exile before of course, and during those times she kept herself busy by spending it planning her next move and crafting a new identity. This time was different though; she knew the Avengers were still needed. The whole debacle with the Accords only strengthened that belief in her mind. So while the red tape was being plastered everywhere, and new laws were being written, Natasha knew it was a waste of time. Some big bad would rear its ugly head and those laws would be thrown out the window; the Avengers would always be expected to assemble and save the world. It didn't matter that they were the ones putting their lives on the line, or that when they were done, the Avengers would be scalded like children and told that those sitting on Capital Hill could have done a better job.

She'd like to see them try.

Natasha huffed with irritation and sat up – only to find that there was someone watching her. Squinting, the redhead shielded her eyes from the sun to gain a closer look.

It was Wanda.

The slim brunette was making her way down the hill and was carrying a bottle of water. Smiling fondly, Natasha waited patiently for the younger woman to walk around the edge of the lake and join her.

"You must have read my mind," Natasha called out teasingly once Wanda was within earshot. She was glad to see the brunette; it had been a while since the two had spent any one on one time together. After all that had happened with Ultron, Natasha was initially suspicious and hesitant to let her guard down around the younger woman. Yet once the two were forced to start training with each other, Natasha came to realize that she enjoyed Wanda's dark humor and rebellious nature. There was fire and strength inside the Sokovian native that Natasha could relate to and so she put aside her mistrust and had come to see the woman as more of a sister than a colleague.

"Consider yourself lucky," Wanda grumbled, having finally made it over to her. "I don't normally do bottle service." With a flick of her hand she used her red mystical telekinetic power to float the bottle up to Natasha's waiting hands. The redhead tore off the lid and took a long appreciative gulp while Wanda busied herself with levitating herself up and on to the boulder. She touched down gently and seated herself beside the spy.

"Thank you," Natasha said, taking another long swig of water. She motioned up to the house that looked comically small from their vantage point at the furthest end of the lake. "You tired of the boys already?"

Natasha took note of Wanda's reddening cheeks and how she shrugged guiltily. "The testosterone is sometimes a little overwhelming," she admitted with a small grin. "I grew tired of Steve pacing back and forth when you were gone longer than an hour, so I took it upon myself to go find you. I think he was worried you'd ditched us without saying goodbye."

"It hasn't been that long," Natasha protested. She leaned over and grabbed hold of the simple silver watch Wanda wore on her left arm and studied the clock face. Sure enough it had been two and a half hours since she'd left for her run. "Whoops."

Wanda smiled sympathetically. "It's hardly surprising. It's almost like time means nothing out here."

"Hmm." Natasha tried to shake the unsettling feeling that the brunette beside her knew exactly what thoughts had distracted Natasha during her run. It was similar to how she'd felt the first time Wanda had used her powers to influence Natasha fears to rise to the surface. It was disorientating and left her feeling naked and vulnerable. Natasha hated that feeling. Clearing her throat, she briefly glanced over at the younger woman sitting cross-legged beside her. "I take it there's no more breakfast left?"

Wanda shook her head. "I tried but Scott made off with the last of the bacon." She opened the leather jacket she was wearing and produced a granola bar from her pocket, handing it over to Natasha in consolation. "He left after breakfast to head in to town to buy some more food; this is all we had left."

Natasha took the bar gratefully and unwrapped it. "Thanks," she mumbled in between bites of the bar.

The two women settled into a comfortable silence as Natasha ate.

"He cares about you a lot, you know?" Wanda voiced softly, picking up a small piece of rock the size of a quarter and tossing it into the lake below. It landed with a soft plop and the surface of the lake rippled from the disturbance.

"Who?" Natasha casually asked. She didn't need to be psychic herself to know who the brunette was referring to. Denial had always been Natasha strongest weapon in her spy toolkit and she pretended to act perplexed by Wanda's revelation. "Scott?"

Wanda, who was by now no stranger to Natasha's deflection tactics, pulled a face. "Steve," she clarified with a pointed look. "The man who was moping about the house like a bear with a sore tooth until the day you arrived." She tossed another rock in to the water below.

Natasha clicked her tongue dismissively. "He's just worried about Barnes and upset over the Accords debacle," Natasha assured her screwing up the empty granola bar wrapper into a ball. "My arrival was just a momentary distraction. He'll be back to brooding like always any day now. You'll see."

"Uh-huh." Wanda didn't sound convinced. She taped her temple. "You know I can see in to people's minds right?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I haven't forgotten," the redhead remarked, reaching over to thwack the girl on the leg lightly with her empty bottle. She was growing increasingly uncomfortable about where the conversation was heading. It was one thing for her to speculate about the feelings the captain may or may not have; it was another things entirely to have someone else spell them out in front of her.

"And you care about him too," Wanda continued, her head listing to one side in contemplation. "I don't understand the resistance."

"It's complicated," Natasha rebuked, shifting back and forth on the boulder irritably. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with anyone, let alone someone who could easily look in to her thoughts and call her on her denial.

"Life is complicated," Wanda responded wisely. She glanced out over at the lake in front of them. "And short," she reminded the redhead sadly.

Natasha felt a stab of guilt flare up inside her heart. She knew the younger woman was referring to her twin brother who had been killed thanks to Ultron and his evil robotic minions. "I know," Natasha started gently, placing her hand on Wanda's jean clad leg sympathetically. "I learned early on that you can't place stock on things lasting forever."

"Then why do you hesitate?"

"Because I'm stubborn?" Natasha offered with a wry grin, hoping the lighter tone in her response would ease some of the sadness that had suddenly descended upon the two. "You've seen inside my head, it's a mess in there; I'm surprised you didn't run screaming after a small glimpse."

"I cannot imagine surviving that place." Wanda shuddered as if recalling some images that disturbed her. "How is it that you can you smile and joke so easily when you have experienced so many horrors?"

The spy knew exactly what place the brunette was referring to. The Red Room. Feeling the presence of old protective walls slamming shut inside her mind, Natasha tried to push past the burning desire to change the subject or make a joke. She swallowed and considered her next few words carefully. "I manage it the same way you managed after Pietro," Wanda looked up surprised, "One day at a time. After a few years a scab covers the wound and it becomes easier to breath; but the wound never fully heals. It's always there, as a reminder, but it doesn't stop you from getting on with things. "

A heavy silence settled over the two and Natasha reached out to place a reassuring hand on the younger woman's hunched shoulders. She said nothing as tears began to roll silently down Wanda's face. Nor did she move away when Wanda dropped her head on to Natasha's shoulder. She simply sat there with her, swallowing the desire to whisper false promises and lies that it would get better soon and she'll never feel pain like this again. Instead the redhead just sat and waited, her hand rubbing small circles on her arm.

After a few minutes Wanda sniffed and wiped away her tears. Natasha dropped her hand from her shoulder and returned it to her empty water bottle and granola wrapper sitting in her lap.

"We should head back before Steve comes looking for us," Wanda remarked with a knowing glance at the house. "I'll be surprised if he hasn't already suited up and prepared a rescue mission."

Smirking, Natasha stood up and tugged the younger woman to her feet with an extended hand. "You're probably right, he's probably having kittens by now."

She jumped off the side of the boulder and tried to ignore the tightness in her calves when she landed. Her legs were going to be in agony tonight. Natasha wondered with a smile if she was capable of convincing the talented Captain to give her another massage?

Wanda floated down easily beside her and the two women took of at a light pace back to the house.

Sure enough, by the time they reached the peak of the hill Steve was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. In what was sure to be the start of a long lecture, Steve opened his mouth only to falter when Natasha shot him a warning look and shook her head. He looked to Wanda and when he spotted her blotchy red eyes, a sure indication she'd been crying, he physically deflated, his arms dropping down by his sides. He glanced at Natasha, his eyebrow raised in question and she nodded curtly. It was their specially designed secret code that she would discuss it with him later.

Sighing, Steve waved at them to hurry up and lead the way back to the house. Wanda turned to share a smirk with Natasha. While she surmised that something had transpired between the spy and the solider that had eliminated a lecture about disappearing without telling anyone, she knew without a doubt that the rest of the day he wouldn't let either of them out of his sight for long.

* * *

"You don't have to do that you know, you're not our maid," Steve lectured, walking in to the kitchen and finding Natasha fiercely scrubbing the pots and pans from dinner. It was early in the evening, and after Wanda had spent the afternoon making one of her famous Sakovian stews, everyone had enjoyed a hearty meal before retreating to the couches to watch a movie.

"Could have fooled me," Natasha disputed with a frown and took his dirty plate from him. "If it's all the same, Rogers, I don't like living in barnyard squalor."

"Ha, You sound like my ma when I was a kid."

"Gee, thanks. Way to make a woman feel good about herself. I'm like your, _Mom_?"

"I meant it as a compliment," Steve tried to defend lamely with his palms held up in defense.

Natasha smirked, using her forearm to swipe at a piece of stray hair that had fallen over her face. "Uh-huh. Sure you did." She huffed and the stubborn piece of hair refused to budge.

"Here." Steve surprised her by reaching forward and gently pushed the strand back and tucked it behind her ear. Natasha stared up at him, taken aback by the tender gesture. He smiled and tried to bump Natasha away from the sink with his hip. "Why don't you let me take over?" the blonde offered helpfully. "I can finish this," he insisted, taking hold of the silver pan soaking in the water.

"Umm, no, it's ok. I'm good." The redhead pushed him back out of the way with her own hip and swatted at his hands playfully. She knew he was just trying to be polite, but she was honestly almost finished and was quite happy finishing the dishes. Besides, she'd seen the movie they were all watching a million times before and would rather stand here with her thoughts and the warm soapy water. "Shoo!"

"Come on, Nat." Steve whined, grabbing her wrists and stilling them. She glanced up at him in warning but found it hard to threaten him when he was wearing his infamous puppy dog eyes. It was absurd that a man built his size could look so much like an adorable five year old. "You're making me feel bad," he insisted.

Natasha rolled her eyes as he attempted to convince her with another dose of the most beseeching eyes she'd ever seen. A part of her cold heart thawed a little, and she considered relenting for a moment. "If you really want to help, then pick up a towel, Muscles, and you can dry."

Heaving a dramatic sigh, he released her wrists and did as he was instructed. He plucked a yellow and white daisy print towel from the oven door and returned to her left side. "You're being stubborn, you know that right?" he complained and picked up a glass and started drying it with the towel.

"Again," She objected, shooting him a look of disbelief. "So many wonderful compliments from Mr Old Fashioned Manners. No wonder you're terrible with women."

Instead of arguing like she expected him too, his shoulders slumped a little and he reached for a plate looking dejected. "Yeah, well you got me there," he responded in quite voice.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha elbowed him in the side. He didn't respond. She cast a quick glance over at him and noticed that he was making a show of not looking at her. "Oh, come on, Steve." Natasha urged in a softer tone. She placed the now clean pan onto the dish drainer. "I was only teasing."

"That's hardly surprising."

"What is?"

"You tease me all the time," he pointed out, putting his hands on his hips. His lower lip puckered out slightly and he stared at the ground while leaning heavily against the counter.

Natasha raised a suspicious eyebrow at his sudden change. She'd teased him mercilessly over the years and he'd never once shown such a hurt response. This was their thing wasn't it? The play fighting - it was all just for fun… wasn't it?

The spy wondered if his sensitive mood had more to do with being on lock down for so long and that maybe she had genuinely gone too far in her teasing him of late. "Oh come on Steve, I was just pulling your leg. You love it when I tease you."

"No, I don't," he rebuked, turning away from her and picking up another glass to dry. He didn't look at her as he continued, his face turned resolutely away from her. "Maybe you hurt my feelings sometimes."

Frowning, Natasha was suddenly thrown off her game, unsure of how to deal with his comment. Maybe she really had hurt his feelings? She knew he was more sensitive then most men, but never had she thought in a million years that her tiny barbs would actually bother him. It had been one of the things she enjoyed most about their friendship. The banter, the back and forth – he always seemed to enjoy it. Maybe she had been wrong all this time? "Oh."

"Yeah," he said quietly.

Grabbing his arm, she tugged at his wrist to pull him towards her to show him how sorry she was. Yet he continued to look anywhere other then her face. Her heart began to race at the thought that she had done something to irreparably screw up a relationship that was so important to her. "Steve, I'm really-" she started to say when she spotted it – a flicker in his jaw. Suddenly Natasha knew without a doubt that he was playing her. "You jerk!" she admonished and jabbed him in the side of the ribs.

"Hey!" He pretended to reprimand, but it was hard to take him seriously as a shit eating grin spread across his face. She was secretly relieved and embarrassed that he'd managed to pull one over her. She jabbed him harder in retaliation.

"You dick, I thought you were serious!"

Steve grabbed hold of her wrists to stop her endless jabs and laughed. "Don't make me wash your mouth out, Romanoff."

"I'd like to see you try," Natasha retorted with a warning glare. She twisted their arms until she was able to break her wrists free from his grasp and took a step backwards.

"Oh really? Well then; challenge accepted." A mischievous grin lit up Steve's face as he made a show of picking up a handful of soapsuds still left floating on the top of the dishwater.

She pointed a menacing finger at him. "You so much as take another step forward, Rogers, and you'll be sorry."

"Well then you shouldn't use such bad language."

"Would you prefer Asshole?" She retorted smugly. "How about mother fuc-"

There was a glint in his eye, and she knew immediately that she had underestimated him as he lurched forward and tried to pin her to the fridge. Grinning, Natasha slipped under his extended arms and swept behind him, tapping him on his back. He swung around and swiftly made a grab for her again, but she simply dogged his hands and reached towards the sink to retrieve the extendable faucet from the sink. She stood facing him, her hand on the nozzle ready to douse him in water while all he held was a handful of rapidly dissolving bubbles.

A devilish grin was plastered across his face as he planted his feet, ready to try again. Natasha tried to quell her laughter at the sight, but it was a struggle to maintain her sternness when he looked so roguish.

"You wont do it, you just cleaned this kitchen," he reminded her; his blue eyes alight with humor. It had been a while since she'd seen him this light-hearted. He was always so serious and composed, but something about the way he was bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinning told her that this was the Steve Rogers who fought bullies back before the serum. This was the Steve Rogers who she wanted to know more about.

"I think I'm going to make an exception for Captains that need to be taught a lesson," she threatened, aiming the faucet towards his face. She raised a challenging eyebrow and was delighted when he waved at her to come towards him.

"Come on," Steve challenged and raised his handful of pitiful bubbles. "Do it then."

"Put the bubbles down first." It was the most ridiculous sentence she'd ever said in her whole life and she couldn't help the grin that spilled from her lips.

"You put the hose down and I'll comply."

"You first."

"No deal."

Again he pounced and all Natasha could do was respond by spraying in his general direction. With a growl he captured her with one arm around her waist. He mashed a handful of bubbles onto her head, laughing triumphantly. A full stream of cold water met his laughing face and he swung them around so that her back was to him and she was pressed against the sink.

He then proceeded to pick up a handful of water and bubbles and splashed it into her face. Natasha roared with furry and retaliated by spraying his face with water. Water sprayed in every direction and it was hard to tell who had the upper hand anymore, as they were a tangled mess of limbs and laughter.

"Not so tough now are you?" Steve asked, chuckling in her ear. Natasha squirmed in response, trying to get out of his grasp, but her had a solid hold of her waist and was keeping her legs pinned against the sink with his own legs. She attempted to shimmy downwards but was unsuccessful as he pressed her against his own body tightly. In frustration to turn the faucet so it sprayed him directly in his face. "Hey!"

Steve took hold of her wrist with one hand and using his strength against her, directed the faucet away from his face and back down towards her chest, soaking her thoroughly through to her underwear.

"That's cheating!" She hollered, bucking against him in between laughing and trying to find leverage. He was so strong and she knew she'd made a mistake in letting him lock her into such a position. However there was another part of her that could not deny the way it felt to have his arms wrapped so firmly around her. Nor could she deny the thrill that rippled through her when she realized that she could feel his arousal starting to press into her back. "Steve, it's freezing!" she pleaded, wiggling back and forth in an attempt to free herself.

"Say when," he commanded, his lips grazing the side of her ear. She suppressed a shudder and ignored the fact that water wasn't the only thing now dampening her underwear.

"Never!"

"Then I'm not letting go."

"Rogers, I'm warning you!"

"You don't scare – Oww! You bit me!" He protested as her teeth clamped down on his forearm. He released some of his grip around her enough that it allowed her to push them backwards. He stumbled a little off balance and she used that opportunity to push against the counter and hoist herself up and on top of his shoulders. Her wet thighs clamped firmly around his neck and she shouted out victoriously. Steve laughed and abandoned the faucet, trying unsuccessfully to pull her off his shoulders. His hands ran up and down her thighs as he tried to separate her legs, but it only resulted in her whoops and taunts as he failed.

"What in the hell?"

The two of them froze and Steve look over to see Sam standing at the doorway of the kitchen, his dirty plate in his hand. His eyebrows were raised as he surveyed the two.

"He started it," Natasha explained lamely, but still did not move from her position seated on top of Steve's shoulders.

"Yo," Sam said and held up his hand in defense and plopped his plate on the counter furthest away from them. "This is some weird x-rated shit and I'm just going to make myself scarce before I see something that will blind me for the rest of my life." He then quickly backed out of the kitchen, mumbling under his breath.

Steve looked up at Natasha and grinned impishly. "Guess we kinda got carried away, huh?"

"Meh, he's just jealous we didn't invite him to play," Natasha quipped and looked around the kitchen in disgust. "You're cleaning this up by the way."

Steve chuckled. "I guess that's fair." He tapped her thighs. "You mind hoping down now? My neck is starting to hurt."

"Good." Natasha retorted, but reduced the pressure from around his neck. She took his offered hand and allowed him to help her slide back down his body. Try as she might it was hard not to notice how his firm muscles felt under her fingers, or how there was now a certain heat radiating between them. It certainly didn't help that they were both soaking wet. He steadied her by placing his hand on her lower back and she knew by his sharp intake of breath that he could see how her nipples had hardened in response to his touch.

She glanced up through her lashes and was surprised to see his normally clear blue eyes were now darker and more intense as he looked down at her. Natasha licked her lips, tasting the remnants of dish soap and was suddenly very much aware of the growing tension in the air.

The desire to stretch up on her tiptoes to capture his lips in a passionate crushing kiss was so overwhelming, that her heart began to beat wildly in anticipation. She adjusted her fingers from where they sat splayed across his chest and realized his own heartbeat was pounding rapidly. Was this it? Was this the moment when they finally crossed that line from friendship to something more? She wasn't stupid. She knew how high the stakes were if they gave in to their primal urges. Physically the two of them were compatible in every way… but emotionally? There was so much at risk.

A war raged on inside her as she fought against her body's desire to crush the Captain to her and throw caution to the wind.

"Nat-" Steve started to say; his tone deeper than she'd ever heard it. His face inched towards her and his long eyelashes fluttered closed as he tilted his head.

This was it. They were going to kiss for sure this time. Not because they were undercover or because it was a good distraction; not because either of them was about to die; but because it was a real god honest kiss that they both wanted and the chemistry between them was magnetic. Natasha knew in her heart the minute she sealed her lips over his she would never be able to deny or explain away her actions as a heat of the moment act. She wanted to kiss him, she'd wanted to ever since the moment he'd pushed her up against that door in the hospital in DC and demanded she stop lying to him.

Natasha moistened her lips, the blood thumping away in her eardrums. She felt his warm breath on her lips and slid her eyes shut as she gave in to the temptation…

The pan sitting in the dish drainer slid off the rack and landed on the floor with a startling loud clang.

The spell was broken and he released her suddenly, stepping back and bumping in to the counter. The blonde rubbed his neck in a pained motion and bent down to pick up the fallen pan.

Natasha gulped. It was suddenly very hot in the kitchen despite the fact that she was dripping wet.

"Ah, umm, I guess I better get started on cleaning this mess up, huh?" he joked, his voice stuttering slightly.

Natasha said nothing as she picked up the abandoned towel to wipe some of the water from her face. The flood of sexual attraction for the man standing in front of her had invaded every last one of her senses. It was a fight to remain grounded and focused as she moved around him to assist in the clean up. There was water everywhere.

"Here, I'll do that," he said softly and took the towel from her hands. "Why don't you go and have a shower and I'll clean up? I don't want you catch a cold or anything."

Swallowing the rebuttal that she didn't get sick easily like most people, she nodded and handed him the towel. "You sure?" She asked, her eyes sweeping around the waterlogged kitchen. She knew she should help him, but she was afraid of what might happen if he touched her again. She didn't think a crashing pan could stop them next time.

He grinned tentatively at her. "Absolutely."

"Ok, then." She started to head out of the kitchen but paused at the doorway to look back at him. His face was flushed red and he was absently rubbing the back of his neck as he surveyed the damage. A wicked thought crossed her mind and before she could think twice she found herself speaking. "You sure you don't want to join me? I could help you finally get passed second base," she teased with her most seductive wink.

His reaction was well worth any momentary embarrassment when he groaned and looked skyward. "You're killing me, Romanoff," he grunted at her, his ears going red with blush. He tossed the towel at her in retaliation.

Natasha laughed and threw the towel back. "I was just offering-"

"Get!" He ordered pointing upstairs. With a laugh, she turned on her heel and ran upstairs. Once she was safely ensconced in the bathroom behind a locked door she ran a feverish hand through her wet hair and fanned her face.

"What the hell am I doing?" she hissed to herself and tried to deny how serious her offer had been to have him share her shower. She could already picture the scene in her mind. Her naked breasts pressed up against his firm washboard chest while their mouths came together in a steamy clash of tongues and teeth. Natasha moaned and turned on the taps cursing herself for entertaining such thoughts. There was no way she could see him the rest of the night when she felt like this.

She stepped under the water shower spray wondering how she was going to last the rest of their exile without making their lives more complicated than it already was.

Little did she know that Steve was in the kitchen mopping up their mess and wondering the exact same thing.


	5. Chapter 5

Happy early Valentines Ya'll!

* * *

 _592, 593, 594, 595…_

"Alright, good work - now give me one more set."

Steve looked up from the faded blue sparing mat beneath him. On the other side of the gym his teammates were training under the watchful eye of Natasha. If you could call the room they were training in a gym. In reality, they were making do in a large garage that had been converted in to a sparse workout room complete with worn gym mats, a punching bag and a set of weights.

"You said that two sets ago," Scott panted, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat leaking from his brow. "Are you trying to kill me? Cos if you are - it's working."

Natasha shrugged apologetically. "You were the one who said you wanted to train like an Avenger; this is how we train."

Scott grimaced. "Yeah, but I thought you would train me at a human level, not as if I was Hercules over there." He gestured to Steve who had paused mid count in completing his push-ups.

Feeling sorry for his exhausted teammate, Steve decided to offer Scott some encouraging advice. "You'll get used to it, Lang. Don't worry – you're doing great!" He added a thumbs up alongside of his reassuring smile.

"I'll die before that happens," Scott whined, clearly not swayed by the positive can-do-attitude the super solider was projecting. He swore openly as Steve finished his six hundredth push-up and switched to doing the next set one handed.

"Don't worry about what Rogers is doing – he's just showing off." Steve heard Natasha comment and he swallowed a smile as he continued.

"I'm seriously tapping out here," Scott continued to plead his case. "Please, don't make me do another set - my arms are legit going to snap off."

"If they snap off, then I'll switch to teaching you to use your legs to lift the bar instead," the redhead rebuked without a trace of empathy. Steve glanced back over at the duo across the room. With her hands on her hips, Natasha delivered her best do-it-or-else glare to the whimpering Scott.

Beside him, Wanda attempt to smother a giggle behind her hand. Steve quickly sent her a cautionary look and she obediently returned to her set of crunches - though she didn't bother trying to hide her grin as Scott continued to protest under Natasha's instructions.

"Can I at least have a five-minute break?"

"No."

"What about some orange slices?"

"I don't have any orange slices."

"A protein bar?"

"You can eat when you've finished."

"What about a lung transplant, I'm pretty sure I need one of those."

Steve knew Natasha well enough that without looking at her he knew she was currently rolling her eyes and screwing up the side of her mouth.

"One more set and _then_ you can take a quick break."

Steve switched arms as he finished another set and quickly glanced across the room. Natasha had reached forward and picked up the set of weights effortlessly from their cradle. There was a ridiculously large part of Steve that got a kick out of watching a strong, confident woman bark orders and put full-grown men through their paces. The first time he'd experienced such a feeling was watching Peggy pick apart the ragtag group of soldiers still wet behind the ears back in the early days of WWI.

Now it was Natasha. The ex-KGB agent was talented both on and off the battlefield and didn't waste a second on seeking the acceptance of her male counterparts. Both women took no prisoners and made no apologies.

If he was honest with himself he'd admit that it was equal parts admirable as _sexy_ as hell.

As if sensing his gaze, Natasha looked up from Scott and made eye-contact with Steve. Guiltily he dropped his head back down to the mat and didn't look up again under he heard Scott begrudgingly lay back down on the bench and resume his workout.

"I'd hurry up if I were you, tic-tac," Sam called out from his position behind the punching bag beside Steve and Wanda. His own shirt was still soaked with sweat after the vigorous workout Steve had led him through earlier. "She _hates_ backtalk." The former paratrooper ran a tired arm over his forehead. "I should know. She made me run 5 miles with a backpack full of bricks as payback last year."

Scott glanced from Sam to Natasha in disbelief before seeking assurance from Steve. The blonde captain simply nodded in confirmation of Sam's statement and Scott gulped nervously.

"Ok, fine," he complied. "But if I have a heart attack, I want it to say, ' _I told you so',_ on my tombstone."

Growing tired of the delay, Natasha clucked her tongue. "Enough with the stalling, Lang. You can't always rely on your suit,"

Grunting, Scott took the offered bar from Natasha and slowly lowered the weights down to his chest. After adjusting his grip slightly and released a strangled cry as he slowly push the stacked weights towards the ceiling.

"One." Natasha counted out loud, her stance ready in case Scott's arms really did give out and she needed to grab the bar quickly. "Two." She waited patiently as he panted in effort from pushing the weights back up. "All the way to the top, keep your arms straight, tighten your core."

"You know," Scott puffed out through gritted teeth and lowered the weights. Beads of sweat started to spring from the pores of his forehead and began to trickle down into his eyes. He blinked madly, trying to reduce the sting of salt in his eyes. "You remind me of those executioners from ye olden times – only they were nicer when they beheaded people."

"If you've got energy to complain, then you've got energy for another set," Natasha responded with a tone that said she was growing tired of his complaints. "Do you want to add another run to your workout, Lang?"

"No ma'am!"

"Then straighten those arms and let me see you using your core instead of your back."

"Ugh!"

Steve finished up his sets and stood up. His left side was protesting a little, but it was nothing a few stretches couldn't resolve. He checked in on Wanda who, having completed her own workout, held out her hand and he gently pulled her to her feet. Her normally pale face was now flushed, and as they walked over to join Sam by the punching bag, she pulled the rubber band from her hair to release her pony tail.

"Good work you two." He complemented Wanda and Sam. They bobbed their heads appreciatively, gathering up water bottles and towel each from the chair pushed up against the wall. They all shared amused grins with one another as they turned to watch Natasha push Scott to keep training.

"That's four - keep going. Remember to breath."

"I can't do it," Scott choked out, his arms starting to wobble a little as he struggled to lower the bar back down to his chest again. "I've got nothing left."

As the man's arms began to shake harder, Natasha's voice softened slightly and she smiled down at him encouragingly. "Yes, you have. You're doing fine." She planted her feet either side of his head, ready to grab the bar, her hands ghosting either side of his arms. She nodded encouragingly. "Come on, Lang, chicks dig a set of guns. Keep going; you're almost there."

"I _can't_ -"

"Come on, just _one_ more," Natasha instructed, her eyes alight with encouragement. "You've got this, don't you dare quit on me now."

"I… I…" Summoning all his remaining strength, Scott lowered the bar one last time and hollered as he slowly pushed up, his biceps shaking fiercely with the effort.

"Five!" Natasha took hold of the bar and quickly eased it back into the cradle. "Good job!" She congratulated and pulled the small towel from her shoulder and dropped it on to his chest. She beamed down at him. " _See_ , I told you that you could do it."

"Nice work, man." Sam called out as the three of them made their way across the room. He reached over to high five the panting Scott. "You survived you're first Romanoff-smack-down challenge."

Natasha scoffed. "Hardly - I went easy on him for his first time."

"Easy?!" Scott spluttered in disbelief, looking up at her aghast. "You made me run two miles, had me doing burpees until I literally threw up-" He paused, catching his breath. "Then you punched me repeatedly with boxing gloves for an hour and _then_ you made me do weights." He slowly eased up into a sitting position and gratefully accepted the offered drink bottle from Wanda. "If you call that easy, I'm terrified of what you call hard."

"Ignore her," Steve said, squeezing the man on the shoulder gently. "You did really well for your first training session."

"How many times a week do you lunatics do this kind of training?" Scott asked warily, chugging down a mouthful of water. Steve thought the man didn't really look like he wanted to know the answer for fear that it meant he would now being expected to start doing the same.

Sam shared a conspiratorial grin with Natasha and shrugged. "Only five or six times a week."

"Five or six times?!" Scott's jaw dropped open. He swiveled his head from Steve to Natasha, looking for any indication that they were messing with him. They stared back at him earnestly. "What about days off? Long weekends? Public holidays? _Vacations?!"_

"You mean when we're on missions saving the world?" Natasha asked, crossing her hands over the chest. "Yeah, I guess you could say that DC was our day off? Steve?"

Chuckling, Steve nodded his head and pretended to ponder her question "Being on the run from Pierce was sort of like a vacation."

Sam snorted. "Oh, you mean that time when you guys rocked up on my doorstep after having had a building collapse on your heads?"

Natasha nodded and shared a fond smile with Steve. "Good times."

Scott stared at them with a mixture of awe and disbelief. "You guys are legit insane."

He attempted to stand up, but his legs wobbled dangerously, and Steve had to quickly reach out to catch him before he slid to the ground. "I'm fine." He insisted, pushing away from the Captain. "I'm just going to go inside and lay down and pray for death," he assured him and made a show of limping back towards the house.

"Sam, Wanda; why don't you go with him and make sure he doesn't hit his head and pass out on the floor," Natasha suggested, jerking her head towards Scott. "Rushing him to the local emergency room isn't a very good way of laying low."

"Yeah, wouldn't want my dead body to mess up your day or anything," Scott said dryly, leaning heavily against the doorway of the garage as Wanda rushed over to assist him. Sam chuckled and yanked his hands free from the boxing gloves before heading after them.

Once the trio were out of sight, Steve turned towards Natasha and jerked his thumb backwards to the mats in the middle of the room. "Want to go a few rounds?"

It wasn't unusual for the two to spar with one another, in fact, the Captain found it often served to help him anticipate what to expect from his opponents out in the field. Today, however, it felt different. After last night the air between them felt more… _charged._

Steve suspected it might be all in his head, but he'd been replaying the scene in the kitchen through his mind non-stop. From the moment he went to bed, to when he slipped out before dawn this morning to go for a run. The tension circulating in his blood was almost as bad as an itch he couldn't quite reach. He desperately sought relief and had been attempting to do so through endless physical excursion all morning.

If Natasha felt any of the same tension or charged energy between them, she didn't show it. She simply nodded in agreement and began rolling her shoulders back and forth in preparation.

Steve tried desperately not to notice how snug her leggings were against her womanly curves were today, or how much deliciously smooth skin was exposed thanks to her small black crop top. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his head. He shouldn't be thinking about her this way. She was his team mate, his friend, his partner, his-

She bent over to touch her toes, stretching out the backs of her lean legs and giving him nothing but a full uninterrupted view of her firm taunt backside. His fingers involuntary clenched against his sides.

Maybe suggesting a sparring session with her today had been a mistake.

"You wanna try something new today?"

Caught off guard, Steve stared at her blankly. His thoughts began to race as he considered all the possibilities she might have in store for him. Something new? What did that mean? The last time she'd tried something new Wanda had accidentally sent him through a plate glass window when she'd tried to use her powers to levitate him on top of the roof. He cringed at the memory, more so because Wanda hadn't come out of her room for three days after the disastrous training session.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked warily.

As if reading his thoughts, she smiled and shook her head. "Nothing too serious. Just something I was taught back in the day," she answered cryptically. Steve knew without an explanation that the 'back in the day' she was referring to was the Red Room. He hesitated, unsure as to what to expect from a lesson taught by a place where they trained innocent children to be deadly weapons.

His stomach churned in apprehension. "Should I tell Sam to have a first aid kit on standby?"

Her sea green eyes twinkled with mischief. "Relax, Steve, it'll be fun - mostly for me - but you'll get something out of it too." Warning bells sounded off inside Steve's head. "You trust me, don't you?" She purred, her voice as sweet as syrup.

He nodded, unable to deny that his curiosity was peaked. He took a step towards her. "What do you want me to do?"

"Wait here a second," Natasha instructed him. She jogged over to the other side of the room where her duffle bag sat opened. After rummaging around for a few minutes, she withdrew a long thick piece of black material and re-joined him in the middle of the mat.

Steve looked down at the material perplexed. "What's this for?" He asked, reaching out to touch it. It was smooth and stretchy like lycra.

"Kneel down for me so I can reach your head," was all Natasha said in response to his question.

Uncertain, but trusting that he was in no immediate danger, Steve followed her instructions and knelt in front of her. She sent him a reassuring smile before stepping behind him.

Her small hands were warm as she rested them on his shoulders. "It's called _Blindman's Bluff_." She leaned forward and draped the material across his face. "I know you have super solider senses, but this will teach you how to hone certain senses individually."

Steve closed his eyes and waited patiently as she pulled and tied the ends of the material together tightly at the back of his head. Once she was certain it would stay in place, she adjusted the material to make sure it was covering his eyes completely and he felt her stepped away.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

Steve opened his eyes, attempting to see through the blindfold but found only darkness. He blinked again, waiting for his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness, but he couldn't see a thing past the thick material. He shook his head. "No idea."

"Good."

Steve gulped. "Why do I suddenly think this is a very bad idea?"

"Probably because you have major control issues," she teased with a laugh.

He was embarrassingly startled slightly when her hands circled around his wrists and began tugging him upward. "You can stand now." He could hear the amusement in her voice as he pushed himself clumsily to his feet.

Steve turned his head back and forth, trying to determine his location in the room. He was completely blind. A memory of ice and darkness flashed through his mind and he fought to keep his anxiety in check as his chest tightened as a result.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

"You ok?" Her voice was soft and patient in his left ear. His skin prickled and he forced himself to nod.

"I'm fine. Is this just going to be like a game of Marco Polo?"

He'd been terrible at that game when he and Bucky had played it. The other kids in his neighborhood had teased him mercilessly when Bucky made it ridiculously easy for a wheezing Steve to catch him. But his best friend hadn't cared and instead not so accidentally punched the loudest bullies in the face when it was Bucky's turn to be blindfolded.

Things were noticeably different now as Steve realized that despite his loss of vision, his hearing was starting to magnify in its intensity. He released a relieved breath, the anxiety appeased and receding as quickly as it had arrived. He was now eager to test the serums limits while artificially blind.

"It's similar." Steve turned his head in the direction of where he thought her voice had come from and was pleasantly surprised when his hands grazed her arms as she stood patiently beside him. "The only difference is I'm going to try and attack you and your job is to block and eventually subdue me without removing the blindfold."

"Sounds easy enough."

"We'll see, solider."

She took hold of his wrists again. Without explanation, Natasha led him around in a series of tight and wide circles until he was completely disorientated. Then she turned him counter clockwise and led him forward a few steps. Slowly her fingers released their firm grip on his wrists and she stepped away. Steve took an experimental step forward and stopped.

Silence.

The Captain swallowed cautiously. He was taken aback by how quickly he felt the vulnerability and defenselessness return now that he knew she could attack at any second. He released a tight breath and waited for any further instructions.

"Have we started yet?"

Nothing.

Tilting his head, he listened carefully, taking in the sound of the birds twittering sweetly outside. A few beats of his heart later and he could make out the whirling of the fan in the corner of the garage as it swept back and forth. He furrowed his brow, searching for the sound of her sneaker-clad feet on the spongy floor.

"You ready, Solider?" she whispered against his ear, her warm breath tickling the hairs on his neck. A shiver ran up his spine. How had she managed to sneak up on him so easily? He hadn't even felt the dip in the floor beneath him.

Maybe he had overestimated his super serum abilities.

"I'm ready," he responded, slightly less confident now that she had already snuck up on him.

"Get ready."

All his senses switched on high alert as he planted his feet in a defensive position. He balled his fists up and raised them in front of his face in preparation of her imminent attack. His heart began to beat a little faster; the same way it did when he was in the middle of fighting a battle.

Suddenly her fist connected with his left shoulder blade. Stunned, the Captain immediately shifted his weight to the left in preparation for another hit. He felt incredibly unsteady and clumsy, as if he was standing on the deck of rocking boat and not solid ground.

"That's one," she boasted from far away, amusement lacing her tone. Steve swiveled around towards where he thought the sound of her voice had come from. He had no idea if he was in the middle of the room or facing a wall. _This is ridiculous_ , he mused feeling a wave of irritation at his lack of coordination.

Another hit came from behind, a small jab to his lower back, and he grunted in annoyance, swinging his arm out wide. While the hits themselves did not hurt, it was off putting in its sudden appearance and he found himself staggering around more and more like a bear on its hind legs.

She jabbed him again, this time in the middle of his abdominal muscles. He flinched.

"Come on, Rogers. Focus," her voice taunted him from his right side. Steve reached out to snatch hold of where he thought she was and came up empty handed.

He took a hesitant step forward, only to stumble backwards when she socked him in the jaw. He growled and lunched for her, but all he connected with was the wall of the garage.

"This is stupid," he muttered, shoving himself away from the wall angrily and turning back around.

"Trust the rest of your senses, it's not about brute strength and speed right now," she lectured.

He nodded his head, taking her advice and switched to using his nose to see if he could sniff out her location. The old garage smelt like a combination of mildew, aluminum and faint traces of oil. He took a deeper sniff and turned his head slowly until he found a scent that stood out. It took his several minutes but then he found what he was looking for.

A light, distinct feminine scent that reminded him of spices. It was rich, earthy and a unique seductive musk that he associated with one person alone. Steve sniffed deeply and tried to identify where her scent was strongest in the room. He raised his arms again in a defensive position in case she was close by, but after a few minutes of searching he grew increasingly frustrated when he wasn't able to immediately locate her position.

A sudden jabbed to his stomach had him retreating backwards a few steps and he noticed that her scent was stronger to the right. He took a step sideways and lunged forward, his arms swinging, only to connect with thin air.

Steve dropped his hands back down and growled. This was a stupid game. Her scent was everywhere around him, and he couldn't tell if he was about to run into a wall or not. He ignored her instructions and swept his arms around in a circular motion trying to detect any walls.

Instead of giving him time to figure out his location, the spry redhead took advantage of his lowered arms and she socked him in the jaw. He cried out more from surprise than pain, and swiped out at her angrily. Once again, his hands captured nothing but thin air, and he swore angrily.

"Language, Rogers." Her cheery voice called from far off to his left. He lunged towards her voice, only to receive another one of her fists to his chest.

Steve stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet this time as he caught the edge of the mats. He grunted. This was such a pointless exercise. He felt stupid and frustrated.

"Having fun yet?" She was circling him now. He could determine that much. She was the shark, the deadly unchallenged predator and he was the dumb helpless floundering prey.

Steve growled low in his throat, shaking his head and trying to clear his mind. He wasn't a quitter. He could do this. He was Steve Rogers. He was Captain America. He just had to adapt.

The room felt unbearably hot, but he knew that was more from his anger than a sudden increase of temperature to the room. He switched to trying to concentrate on the tell-tale feel of her feet on the mats, but he realized after a few blundering steps that he couldn't do that because he was moving too much.

He stilled his movements and held his arms up towards his face and crouched slightly like he had learned in boxing classes. Instead of chasing her he should be waiting for her to come to him.

Steve inhaled deeply and held his breath until his body settled. After a few moments, he opened his mouth to exhale when he felt a punch to his stomach and he pounced forward in an attempt to grab her.

This time his fingers slid through the ends of her hair and he heard her chuckle from somewhere behind him. "You'll have to do better than that, Rogers!" she teased and he jumped in shock when the palm of her hand connected with his ass in a firm slap.

"Hey!" he cried out in protests and whirled around rubbing his left butt cheek.

"Come and get me, Solider," came her taunt. He felt a puff of air to his left side and by pure reflex he managed to successfully block her fist as it hurtled towards his face. "Now you're getting it," she approved. "Don't just rely on sound and smell; trust your body to sense my location, feel it on the skin of your arms, the hair on the back of your neck, a change in temperature."

He listened intently to her instructions, attempting to override the instinct to use his sense of touch. When he eventually worked out how to divert his efforts to interpreting what the hairs on his arms and neck were telling him, she hit him again, and he snarled in irritation and lumbered backwards, swinging one arm in front of him.

"You're not trusting your body."

"I'm trying!" he snapped and skittered sideways as she landed a blow to his side. This blow was more painful than the previous ones and he had to wonder how her knuckles had fared for it to have such an impact. Steve shook his head, trying to swallow his simmering anger and instead focus as she had instructed him to do.

His ears strained, and he thought he could just make out the sound of her legs brushing against one another as she came closer. He made a mad swipe for her, but his fingers closed around nothing but air.

"Come on," she barked and surprised him by slapping him on his ass again. He spun around and reached for her, but she was either too fast, or he was just too slow. "Focus, Steve!"

He frowned and spun around, now completely on edge and sensitive to everything around him. The blood coursing inside his veins was throbbing in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. Not since the first time he had stepped out of Dr Erksines machine had he felt so unsure of his body. A feeling of failure burned up inside his chest and it was a constant struggle to stop himself from declaring an end to the game. She was right. He had become too dependent on his strength and his ability to wield his shield in battle. He had taken his power for granted, and now that he no longer possessed his beloved shield, he realized he would have to adapt to a different method of fighting – one that didn't always include the constant use of his fists.

Steve took a deep breath and stilled his body again. He ran through a quick checklist of his senses. One by one, he listened to what his body was saying rather than telling it what to do. In his stillness, he detected a feather light movement of air shift on his right side. He quickly lifted his arm and tilted his head in time to avoid her fist. Her arm bounced off his forearm and disappeared.

Redirecting his attention to the brief warning sensation behind his back, he whirled around, whipping his arm up again in defense. When he successfully blocked her attack, a victorious smile spread across his face. He took a step back. Her fist withdrew and she disappeared again.

Natasha was impressed.

She stood at the edge of the mat and observed the man before her as he attempted to seek out her position. He was improving faster than she had anticipated. Faster then she had in the Red Room when she had been the only girl to walk away from a session without needing stitches. Unlike her own training however, she wasn't throwing knives or handfuls of broken glass towards the blindfolded Captain.

While his back was to her, she slipped forward and directed a punch to his lower back, but he sidestepped at the last minute and she breezed past him. Smiling, she realized that attacking him from behind was no longer an easy option anymore.

Circling him slowly, the redhead began planning her next offense when she noticed that he was lax in defending the front of his chest. Darting forward, Natasha landed a blow to his chest and he stumbled backwards, taken aback. She grinned despite the pain to her swollen knuckles. He was frowning again, his jaw locked in concentration as he sought her out. She waited from the edge of the mats, watching him in amusement as he tried to anticipate her next move. It was refreshing to see him looking so utterly normal and awkward and not the polished super solider he usually was in the field.

"Is that all you got?" He called out after several minutes of silence.

Natasha smile turned sly as she let his paranoia increase, purposely remaining where she was. Sometimes the best way to taunt her prey was to let them do the work for them. Instead of wasting her energy attacking him, she'd wait until he would tire from being on the defense and then she would make her move. Until then there was no rush.

After a few more silent minutes, he grew bolder and started to move around the mats, searching for her. She inhaled in surprise as he suddenly turned his face towards her, completely unaware of how close he was to locating her.

Time stood still as she pressed herself up against the wall and waited until he passed her. Once he started towards the front of the room, she released her breath and swept past him. His head cocked towards her and he turned around, walking towards her location again, a grin of determination on his face. Taking the opportunity to land another blow in order to disorientate him, she darted forward. She raised her fist, ready to place a quick jab to his side when he reacted.

"Gotcha!" He crowed victoriously, his hands tightening around her fist.

Pouting, Natasha attempted to withdraw her hand - but he refused to release her. The redhead titled her head to one side, trying to figure out why he wasn't letting go when she noticed his other hand. She arched her back, sucking in her stomach as he reached for her. With a careful twist of her wrist, she spun out of his grasp and darted away.

She couldn't help but laugh as lunged towards her, narrowly missing her waist. He growled out as his hands collided with the wall of the garage. "Catch me if you can, Sasquatch!" She taunted while slipping under his arms and dancing to the other side of the room.

"And what do I get if I catch you?" He asked, grinning as he turned towards her voice and made his way confidently towards her. She knew what he was doing. By goading her he was hoping to locate her position from the sound of her voice.

She swallowed a retort and ducked under his outstretched hands, slapping him lightly on the back of his thigh in retaliation. He yelped, swinging around to grab her, but she was already on the opposite end of the barn, waiting for him.

"What? No witty come back? You must be scared that I'm going to catch you." Steve taunted, his movements stilling once he realized she was no longer within arm's reach of him.

Creeping forward slowly, Natasha began to circle him again. She knew by the furrowed brow that he could feel her moving around him, but he curiously did not strike. Instead he stood as still as a statue. His arms hanging loosely down by his sides. His fingers no longer twitching in anticipation.

Natasha narrowed her eyes, immediately suspicious but still chose to hunt for a weakness in his stance. Then she saw her opportunity to strike. While he was favoring his left side, she darted forward to attack his right side. Instead of her punch landing true, she knew as soon as she was within arm's reach it had been a mistake.

He suddenly straightened and caught hold of her arm and yanked her against his body. Natasha attempted to pull herself free, but there was a reason she always avoided getting too close – she could not match his strength when he had hold of her. Thinking quickly, she twisted his arm, pulling him downwards and using his own strength against him until she could wrap her legs firmly around his neck and drag him down to the ground. The well-practiced move worked, and Steve hit the ground hard.

"Oof!" he groaned, having hit the ground without his arms to brace his fall.

Natasha smirked now that she had him completely pinned to the mat. "Not so clever now, are you?" She released her pressure on his neck and was about to jump back to her feet when his hand snapped out and curled around her waist. With a grunt of exertion, he pulled her tightly against his chest and swiftly rolled them both over, pinning her wrists above her head.

"Ha!" he huffed out in satisfaction. Using one hand to pin her wrists to the floor, he reached towards his head to pull the blindfold free as declaration of victory.

Unfortunately for Steve, Natasha took the sudden leniency in his hold to break one arm free and take hold of his shoulder. Pulling his head towards her chest, she hooked one leg underneath him, and used a scissor sweep motion to flip them over until she was once again straddling his waist.

Yanking the blindfold from his head, Natasha beamed down at Steve. "I win," she declared smugly and before he could respond with his own retaliatory move, she planted a brazen kiss to his lips.


	6. Chapter 6

The moment her velvet lips crushed against his, Steve was instantly incapacitated. All thoughts of retaliation and strategy flew from his brain as his eyes struggled to register what was happening.

"Oh." Abruptly, Natasha pulled back, halting any chance he had to respond to the unexpected kiss. Her flushed face hovered mere inches above him and the normally meticulous spy looked as bewildered and as stunned as he felt.

Steve searched her face for an explanation, trying to make sense of the sudden rush of emotions flashing across her eyes. Lust, confusion, regret, fear. He watched them all and waited with bated breath to see what she would do next.

Natasha opened her mouth to say something, but then promptly closed it and looked as if she couldn't decide between making a joke or apologizing.

Without giving her a chance to try to talk her way out of it, he lifted his head and seized her lips with his own. Her hands tightened on his chest, yet they did not push him away. Tilting his head and nudging her mouth open wider, he was rewarded with an explosion of desire when her hot tongue darted forward to make contact with his own. Steve's eyes slid shut and one hand flew to the back of her head, while the other gripped her hip.

He couldn't believe what was happening. They were kissing – and not just a quick peck on the lips. She was kissing him back with just as much hunger and desperation as he felt. This was so far from their previous chaste or awkward kiss on the escalator. This was passion. This was like every kiss he had ever read about in great romance novels or seen at the picture theater. It was like free falling and melting all at the same time.

One of Natasha's hands snaked towards his neck and she tugged gently on the ends of his hair that was tangled in her fingers. He felt the world melt away around them. It was only her and the taste of her tongue wrestling with his own, and the satin feel of her skin as his hand moved from her hip to the base of her spine.

He couldn't get enough of her and it seemed like she felt the same way as she nipped playfully at his bottom lip with her sharp teeth. Steve's hips bucked upwards unconsciously in response to her actions, his hand boldly shifting to taking hold of her ass and squeezing it.

She gasped in surprise and mournfully tore her lips away from him to catch a much-needed mouthful of oxygen. Steve immediately felt the absence of her sweet lips and he leaned upwards again to catch her in another searing kiss - only to stop at the presence of a sly smile on her face.

"What?" he asked, surprised by how raw and desperate his voice sounded.

Her smile grew wider, and he realized that at some point her eyes had turned a darker shade of green. "Someone's been practicing," she teased, shifting her hips back and forth in tight circles.

Steve barely managed to swallow his moan. She had to know how much her shifting was causing his lower extremities to harden even more.

As if sensing his discomfort, she adjusted her position until she was perched directly over the straining bulge in his pants. The smile she wore was nothing short of a cat that had eaten a canary.

He hands tightened on her thighs, stilling her motions. "Keep that up Romanoff and you're going to find out just how much practice I've had."

If it was possible, her eyes darkened even more and the sight of her pink tongue as it darted out to lick her lips was more than he could bare. He pulled her back down towards him and in between taking hold of her mouth again, he rolled them over until she was cushioned beneath him and he was hovering above her.

Her hands immediately took the opportunity to slip underneath his shirt and dance across his skin. He gasped into her mouth as her short nails raked down his abdomen and he returned the favor by shifting his mouth to trail kissed from her cheek to the curve of her neck.

The scent that had driven him mad earlier was even more irresistible as he swept his tongue over her sensitive skin. She tasted as good as she smelt, and when he accidentally scraped his teeth against the very spot he had been kissing her entire body shuddered. Instantly intrigued, he repeated his motions and again her body seemed to simultaneously shake and buck in response to his teeth.

He filed that piece of information away for later.

When her fingers left his chest and coiled in his hair once more, he returned his mouth to her waiting lips and was met with her eager approval. Using one hand to hold himself up, his other explored her side until she arched her back and he pulled her closer to him.

His mind was a hazy mix of drunk desire and bewilderment. He couldn't believe this was finally happening. All his day dreams and late-night fantasies had paled in comparison to the real thing. Kissing Natasha Romanoff was like nothing he'd ever experienced before, and he knew from the first sweep of her tongue that nothing ever would again.

Unfortunately, it was at this precise moment that a surprised exclamation returned them both back to reality.

"Seriously?!" Standing at the doorway, Sam looked equal parts disgusted and amused to find his two team mates making out in the middle of the sparing mats. "Do I need to wear a bell around my neck so ya'll can hear me coming?"

Steve quickly pushed himself up onto his knees while Natasha rolled out from under him. The Captain knew a dark blush had spread across his face as he lamely tried to explain what Sam had walked into. "W-we were just sparring," he stammered, immediately mortified at being caught in such a compromising position - _again_.

Sam tilted his head to the side, clearly not believing a word Steve had said. "Sure thing, Cap. Whatever you say." He motioned to the bag he had left behind. "I left my gear," he explained, and he jogged over to the chair to snatch up his belongings. "You want me to lock the door behind me?" He asked as he walked backwards towards the door.

Before either of them could answer he gave them a double thumbs up, and barely ducked in time as the boxing gloves Natasha had hurled at his head hit the wall. Laughing he backed out of the garage and hollered out to Wanda to go back to the house.

Feeling extremely self-conscious, Steve dragged a hand slowly down his face. He turned towards Natasha and shyly met her eyes. "So…" he started lamely and cleared his throat. He was at a loss at what to say next. What does one say to their friend and team mate after heavily making out with them? "That was… er… _something_."

Steve regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He prayed for the earth to suddenly open and swallow him whole. Where was an alien invasion when he needed one?

"I mean…" he tried again. "I-"

"Relax, Steve." Natasha silenced him with a sympathetic smile. She was standing up now and combing her fingers through her messy hair. "We made out - it's no big deal."

Steve felt his chest deflate. "Oh," he responded quietly, feeling foolish and uncertain. He had thought … No, he must have misunderstood. He must have missed some kind of signal? Was she trying to let him down gently? Maybe that hadn't been a pleasure shudder? Maybe that had been disgust?

 _Oh God_ , what had he done?

Steve watched Natasha as she casually crossed the room to her duffle bag. His mind was whirling desperately trying to figure out when it had all gone wrong. Maybe he had imagined the darkened eyes? He had thought that the heated kisses was perhaps the start of something new, something deeper, something more personal?

What a fool he had been.

Crossing his arms over his chest, the Captain suddenly felt like the same old unsure, awkward Steve Rogers he'd been pre-serum. What was happening now was just another classic Steve Rogers inexperienced, out of sync and completely clueless kid who knew nothing about how the modern world worked.

"Hey," she said, jostling him out of his spiraling self-hatred. "Don't get me wrong, it was a _great_ make out session." Natasha assured him, taking a sip of her water bottle before tossing it back in her bag. She walked over to him and patted him on the arm. "But it doesn't have to mean anything, you know? … Not if you don't want it to."

Now thoroughly confused, Steve stared at her. "Do you?… I mean.. do _you_ want it to?" He asked hesitantly, dropping his arms to rest down by his sides. His heart was thumping against his chest so loudly he was sure she could hear it. "Mean something, that is?"

His mouth was dry. It felt like he had swallowed a giant ball of cotton. He stared at her, struggling to arrange his features into what he desperately hoped was not a look of lame desperation.

Of course, he wanted it to mean something! But if she didn't want it to then he certainly wasn't going to say so.

She seemed to give his question some serious thought before finally shrugging. Steve felt like she'd punched him in the gut again. "I don't know," she answered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It'd be complicated."

His brow furrowed as he considered her words. "Complicated how?"

"Well, for one thing we're teammates, and we're on the run from pretty much every known government agency and country there is."

"Right," he agreed, nodding his head numbly. His heart sunk to the very pit of his stomach. Rejection, no matter how familiar the feeling was, still burned like acid inside his chest.

He felt like he was on one of those roller-coasters at Coney Island that Bucky used to drag him on. One minute he felt on top of the world and the next he was falling and barrelling towards certain death.

He wished he knew what to say to her. Bucky would know. Bucky always knew the right thing to say to women. He desperately wanted to make it seem like he wasn't bothered by her cool flippant reaction to one of the most amazing kisses he'd ever experienced. He wanted to appear as nonchalant as her, maybe ever suggest that do it again some time. But in reality, standing there nodding was all he could do to not reveal that his heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice.

She did have a point though, he couldn't deny that. Did he really think that kissing her would mean that all his other problems would be solved, that perusing a relationship with one of his closest friends would undo the last few months? The simple answer was no.

Once again Natasha was schooling him in not just matters of how the modern world worked, but also in matters of the heart. He was an idiot to let himself think that kissing her was nothing more than a release of tension.

"It's kind of a risky move right now to be, you know… _distracted_." Her smile was assuring and kind, but even though he knew she was right there was still something nagging inside his heart that said he was missing something. Something important.

"Yeah," he agreed, unable to find fault in her logic. Steve ran a hand through his hair and tried to pull it together. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be," she insisted. "I started it." He up at her but she was staring at something outside. "Like I said before, it was great. You're a good kisser."

"Erm, thanks?"

"You're welcome." She smiled still not looking at him. "I think I'm going to hit the showers first if that's ok?"

"Um, yeah, sure… go ahead." He stepped back and motioned for her to go first. She nodded in thanks and zipped up her bag before heading outside.

As soon as she was gone Steve swore loudly.

Walking over to the punching bag, he swung wide and hard and released a frustrated series of punches into the leather surface. When the metal holding the bag started to protest from the beating, he stopped and stilled the bag. Cursing, he rested his head against the leather and wondered what the hell he was going to do now that he'd screwed up so royally.

Natasha was doing her best not to scream or punch something. As she swiftly crossed the yard towards the back of the house, she desperately tried to corral her raging feelings back inside the tight black box where she kept them.

What the hell had she been thinking letting herself kiss him like that? She screamed internally. How could she lose control like that? She was better than that. Last night she had promised herself that she wouldn't let things between them go any further – no matter how much she wanted them to.

He was not hers to have. He was her friend, her partner and nothing more.

But _oh_ … how she wanted more.

Her cheeks burned as she continued to feel the slight grazes his beard had left on her face and neck. The memory of his deft tongue moving to that spot on her neck that made her weak to the knees was now forever burned into her consciousness. Natasha felt giddy. Her soaked underwear was already enough of a betrayal that she was barely able to force her expression into one of nonchalance as she headed up the stairs inside the house.

She didn't know what was worse; that Sam had walked in on their incredibly private moment _again_ , or that she was fighting so hard with her body to not turn back around and run back into that garage and kiss him senseless again.

Luckily Sam was nowhere in sight as she passed through the door and towards the staircase. Wanda however looked up from the TV screen as she passed and nodded to her in greeting. Natasha tried smiling back but only managed a grimace and quickly turned her head and ran up the stairs.

Sam's bedroom door was closed, along with the bathroom door, indicating that Scott was having a shower. Natasha slipped into her bedroom and locked the door behind her quietly. With the security of the drawn curtains Natasha began to pace back and forth.

She had to think. She'd been smart to lie and tell him that it was no big deal - despite how much it killed a part of her to see the crestfallen look on his face. The spy couldn't believe that he'd believed her and had bought the whole 'no big deal' line.

It had been a huge deal! They had _kissed_ , and she had lost herself completely in his arms. Her body had actually trembled under his lips and it terrified her to the core how at ease and safe she felt in his arms. God, she'd practically purred when he took charge and rolled them over.

This was not good. Natasha Romanoff did not swoon. Dammit, why did everything regarding him make everything so complicated?

And yet – he had made her feel things. Real things. Things she thought she was incapable of and certainly things that she'd never experienced with Barton or Banner. But with Steve…it was overwhelming.

And it was becoming her undoing.

Natasha picked up her phone out of a nervous habit and checked the screen. To her surprise there was an unread message waiting in her inbox. She clicked it open and her eyes narrowed.

Fury was calling her in.

Looking around her room, Natasha felt indecision for the first time in her working life. She'd never hesitated to respond before when he'd contacted her. It was always ' _Yes, Boss! How high, Boss? Already taken care of, Boss!'_. But now…

She knew what would happen if she left now. Natasha would irreparably be changing their relationship – or what little they had left – for good.

Natasha stared at the message. The encrypted text told her the minute she responded she'd had ten minutes till EVAC.

That didn't give her much time.

Before she knew what she was doing, she responded back and she sprang into action. Not bothering to waste time changing, she started emptying her draws of what little clothing she had brought with her and dumped them into the duffle bag. Shoving everything inside, including the little cigar box from under the bed, she was packed and ready in record time.

She glanced at the door.

Natasha had a few minutes spare to say her goodbyes - but she knew that they'd be asking questions she couldn't answer, and Steve… he'd want to know everything. Or worse, he'd want to come with her and she couldn't risk that. She couldn't risk _them_. The others needed him and as much as she knew he was bored and itching to get back into the fray of things, she knew he would never be able to work for Fury again – not after everything that happened in the past.

No. Best not to tell him where she was going.

Best not to tell him at all.

A small voice deep inside her snarled that she was being a coward. The voice was right. Leaving without telling everyone, especially Steve, was a coward move. But she'd never been a hero. That was his job. Hers was lies and deceit. The Black Widow wasn't a saint. She was the devil. Evil that did evil things so that people like Steve and Wanda could live their lives in peace.

Plus, she needed time. She needed distance away from Steve to recover her composer and rebuild the wall between them. He was too close and that kiss had proven how vulnerable he could make her. Vulnerable enough that he could shatter her recently thawed heart and that was not something she thought she could survive.

Decision made, she opened the window and stuck her head outside. Her room was on the side of the house, closest to the woods and so she tossed her bag out the window and slid onto the window sill. Shimmying down the drainpipe was easy enough and Natasha knew she didn't have to worry about being seen by the others as she dropped to the ground.

She paused, glancing towards the garage and calculating the best path to make her escape. EVAC was now in three minutes. Just enough time for her to make it to the clearing where Fury had dropped her off.

Pushing the guilt and the uncertainty to the deeper recesses of her mind, Natasha made a run for it and hoped that one day she would be able to look Steve Rogers in the eye again.

Of all the things she had done in her life that were immoral, this one felt like the biggest act of betrayal yet. But it had to be done. For both their sakes. Better she wear the familiar crown of deceit than cause him any future pain. He'd get over it. After all, he'd bought her lie about it being a casual make out session. Maybe he really would consider it good practice for when he met someone he could actually be with. Someone who was worth of his love. Someone that was not her.

"I'm sorry, Steve," she whispered as she made it to the tree line and looked back at the house. "I'm doing this for you."

 _Coward_ , that little voice taunted again.

Steve rapt his knuckles gently on Natasha's bedroom door. After nearly breaking the punching bag, Steve had made the decision he was being a fool by letting her walk away. They were both clearly kidding themselves if they thought those kisses had been nothing more than a fun release of sexual tension.

The way they felt about each other – it was _real_. He knew it was, and after waiting until it was too late with Peggy, he had vowed never to make the same mistake again. He'd nearly lost Natasha to Banner once, and he wasn't just going to stand by in denial and fear and let it happen again.

Mind made up, he rehearsed what he was going to say to her before heading inside the house. Wanda sent him a quizzical look as he passed her muttering his rehearsed speech under his breath, but she said nothing as she watched him climb the stairs.

"Hey man, sorry about earlier," Sam greeted exiting his room and seeing Steve in the hallway. "I didn't know you guys wanted some privacy."

Steve shook his head. "It's fine, Sam. Don't worry about it."

"You sure?" The younger man asked, looking genuinely apologetic.

"Yeah, of course." Steve assured him and knocked on Natasha's door again. He paused, practicing what he was going to say while he waited for her to answer.

 _Natasha, I want it to be something… No, that's not right… Nat - this thing between you and me, it does mean something…or maybe… I know making out might seem casual to you, but to me…_

Silence.

He knocked again, harder this time. "Nat?" He called, trying not to let the worry bleed into his voice. Why wasn't she answering?

Steve frowned, staring at her door and wondering why she wasn't responding. Maybe he'd left it too late and she was now mad at him for not following after her right away?

"Maybe she's in the shower?" Sam suggested, startling Steve as he'd forgotten his friend was still in the hallway.

Before Steve could move, the bathroom door open and Scott warily limped out. Upon seeing Steve and Sam staring at him he raised his eyebrows.

"What? I didn't use all the hot water this time. Honest."

Sam frowned and turned his head. "Hey, Wanda!" Sam called out loudly.

"Yeah?" A small voice drifted back from upstairs.

"Have you seen Natasha?"

"I saw her head upstairs about ten minutes ago." The young woman shouted back up to them.

Steve whirled back to Natasha's door. He tried the handle. It was locked. "Natasha!" He shouted and knocked again, this time a little harder than necessary.

"What's going on?" Scott asked, gripping the edge of the towel wrapped around his waist.

"Nat, open the door!" Steve called out and pounded on the door again. The door rattled in protest, but no sound could be heard from inside the bedroom.

"Maybe she's asleep?" Sam suggested, but the doubt in his voice was as clear as the expression of worry on his face.

"Natasha - I'm coming in!" Steve hollered and took a step back before heaving his weight against the door. The old wooden door gave away easily under his strength and he stumbled into the bedroom.

It was completely empty.

"What's wrong?" Wanda's footsteps pounded up the stairs.

Steve turned around in circles. Natasha was nowhere to be seen. He looked for her phone that usually lived by her bedside table, but it too was gone.

"Steve…" Sam said quietly.

The Captain turned around and Sam was indicating to the empty draw he had pulled open. Steve frowned. All of Natasha's belongings were gone. He stepped towards the closet and opened it looking for any sign of her, but all that met his eyes were empty hangers.

"Oh no." Wanda whispered, her face lined with disappointment and sadness as she took in the open window.

"I'm sorry man," Sam tried to console the perplexed looking Steve.

"Maybe she got called away on some top-secret spy stuff?" Scott offered from the hallway looking empathetic.

"Have you checked your room?" Wanda suggested hopefully, stepping back to allow Steve to push through them all and head to his own room. "Maybe call her phone?"

"I don't have her number," Steve mumbled but checked his bedroom. His clothes were the only inhabitants in the draw. He picked up his burner phone. He knew it was unlikely that she'd left him a message, but his chest still fell when it was blank.

Natasha had disappeared.

Steve sunk down onto his mattress. What had he done? Where was she? Didn't she know he would be worried is she suddenly disappeared? What about the others? Why didn't she tell them where she was going?

What if she hadn't gone voluntarily?

All these thoughts swirled around Steve's mind as he played back their last conversation, searching for a clue as to her location.

"Don't worry Steve, I'm sure she'll be back," Wanda said quietly from his doorway. "You'll see."

But Steve didn't need to see the shared look passed between Sam and Scott to know that it was unlikely that Natasha would be returning any time soon – if at all.

What had he done? Steve thought miserably and looked out the window. He squinted, and he was sure it was his imagination, but it looked like the trees in the distance were swaying back and forth a little too much for it to be due to the wind coming off the surrounding mountains.

 _Please, Natasha_. He begged, looking out at those trees. _Don't do this. Not now_.


	7. Chapter 7

"Welcome back, Agent Romanoff." Maria Hill greeted as Natasha stormed up the ramp of the quinjet, her boots echoing loudly off the metal grates beneath her feet.

Instead of answering, Natasha shelved her bag into the cargo area above the back seats of the jet and then swiveled sharply and dropped down into a seat. If the redhead was surprised that Maria had greeted her in the quinjet instead of Fury's plane, she didn't show any signs of concern as she proceeded to pull out her phone and began to type furiously at the keypad.

Maria, unbothered and accustomed to the other woman's lack of acknowledgment, took her seat by the pilot and gave him the order to seal the ramp back up and prepare for take-off.

After a few minutes of ignoring the hyper-focused tension emanating off the spy in the back of the jet, Maria radioed in confirmation of retrieval back to the plane's co-pilot and patiently awaited further instructions.

As she waited, she cast a side-eyed glance towards the redhead behind her. It didn't take an idiot to deduce that there was something off with the normally passive spy. But as it was neither her place nor her job to act as a nurse maid to the wayward agents she had to retrieve, Maria continued to work through her checklist as they prepared to return to Fury's plane.

The pilot beside her, who was normally exceptionally focused and well trained in ignoring the going on's of the payload they retrieved, cast her a sudden puzzled glance as an irritated huff echoed from their passenger. Maria narrowed her eyes in disapproval, and he was quick to return his eyes back to the main controls in front of him.

She didn't need this kind of disruption today, not when she was running a tight schedule that allowed for little to no error. Sparing a calculating glance over her shoulder at the sullen Romanoff, Maria made a quick visual assessment of the spy's physical welfare.

Despite the fact that the redheads normally pale cheeks and throat were flushed, Maria found no real cause for concern and was satisfied she needn't report anything out of order to Fury.

Returning her attention to the view in front of them, Maria settled in for their long flight back to their airborne base.

Meanwhile, in the seat furthest from the cockpit, Natasha agonised over how to construct a text message that would adequately justify her sudden disappearance from the house. She repeatedly typed, deleted and retyped message after message before giving up with a huff. There was nothing she could say that properly communicated all that she was feeling in that moment. But she knew that the longer she left it, the harder it would be to explain later.

The minutes ticked by painfully and she eventually grew tired of worrying at her lip and picked up her phone again, struggling to come up with the right thing to say.

What she _wanted_ to say was that she was sorry she had lied to him. It was natural instinct for her to pretend she was unbothered and indifferent to matters of the heart. When in truth the kiss has surprised her by its intensity and had left her wanting nothing more than to screw the blonde's brains out right there and then on the sparing mats. In that moment the world could have been about to end and she would have spent her last second riding her Captain to oblivion.

 _Her_ Captain. When had she started thinking about him as _hers_?

She shook her head and tried to clear the fog from her brain. This was wrong. She couldn't think like this. She couldn't be detached and aloof and then in the next second daydream about a man's lips on places other than that sweet spot he'd found on her neck. черт возьми!, just thinking about it made her thighs clench.

Natasha shoved the memory deep down inside the darkest part of her mind and slammed the door shut. She couldn't think like that. She had to gain control over herself. She was not some school girl that daydreamed about boys. She was spy for crying out loud!

The cursor on the screen blink incessantly at her, almost mocking her for her indecision. This wasn't a big deal and she internally growled at the tiny voice that dared to challenge her otherwise.

She'd been through this. There was no future for her that included Steve other than friendship. He was her team mate. His partner. Nothing more. She owed him nothing more than an explanation as to her sudden disappearance as she knew he would naturally think the worst had happened to her.

Stretching her neck from side to side, she tried again to come up with a message that explained her sudden disappearance, but neither offered any hope or false promises.

' _Needed for a job. Stay safe. :)'_

She frowned and back spaced, deleting the smiley face. It felt too casual and dismissive after what had just happened between them.

The smiley face she usually accompanied her messages to him now read like some sort of mockery of what had just happened in the barn. The last thing she wanted him to think was that she thought so little of him that she was laughing about the earth-shattering make out session they'd had. Or worse - that she was going to be back soon to pick up where they left off.

It wasn't right. She should have had more self-control. She had been so good over the past few years as she felt them growing closer. This feeling, this desire, was not a suddenly knew thing that had developed in the space of a few weeks. This was a fire that had been steadily consuming her from the moment they met and it made her feel so _weak_. And she had vowed as a child to never be weak or vulnerable ever again.

Natasha hit send before she could change her mind and closed her eyes. She was an idiot. What's more was she was now struggling to come to terms with the fear he had ignited inside her as she realised just how much she was willing to give it all up just to spend another moment with him. Who was this person she was becoming? This person, this woman, wasn't useful or worthy of his attention. She wasn't someone who helped save the universe from aliens. This was a woman who was selfish and weak and full of pathetic things like hope and _love_.

She grimaced.

Shame and guilt were her friends. Guilt she knew. Guilt she could use and feed to the fire inside her that drove her to do better and help clean her ledger. Guilt was a familiar friend and she greeted that friend with a smile as she contemplated its source.

But hope and _love_?

Love was for children and she had never really been a child, therefore love was not for her.

She dropped her head back against the wall of the jet and closed her eyes. _I am Natasha Romanov – I am a weapon_ , she began to recite in her head. _I do not have feelings_. _I do not have wishes or desires. My job is to hunt evil, fight evil and destroy evil. My ledger is dripping, and it demands to be sponged clean. To do this I must fight so that others can live in a world that is safe and free from evil. Free from the evil monster I once was._

Natasha continued to chant this old story she had been telling herself since she first was assigned to SHIELD. Whenever she felt herself losing focus, she knew the words that could help pull it back together until her world made sense again.

As the message sunk in, she started to feel a small semblance of her old self-return. The ice began to wrap protectively back around her heart and she breathed a cool deep sigh of relief.

Steve Rogers… he was just a man. A teammate. A friend. Nothing more.

Yes, she was attracted to him as any female (and male) with eyes balls were attracted to him. But that was the extent of it. She had a job to do and he would understand that. He was a solider and she was a spy. All she owed him was her life debt and that was a debt that she would certainly return one day.

A debt.

An idea sparked in her brain and it quickly began to take momentum inside her. _A debt._ She owed him a debt. He saved her life back in New Jersey and in return, she would give him back his.

"How long until ETA?" Natasha called out to Maria as she stood up and made her way toward the front of the jet.

"50 minutes," Maria answered, glancing over to the pilot for confirmation. He nodded and Natasha returned to her bag and buried her phone deep inside it. She ignored the fact that it was vibrating continuously with numerous responses to her message.

Fury's recall had been perfect timing. Natasha would go and fulfill her duty to her old boss, but in return, he was going to help her pay a debt.

Inside his bedroom, Steve glared down at the splintered cell phone screen on the floor. He shouldn't have lost his temper and hurled it at the wall the way he did. The stupid thing was probably broken now and he didn't know if he was madder at himself for his stupidity or the person who had caused him to throw it in the first place.

She was gone.

How could she just skip out like that and not tell him face to face? It would have taken thirty seconds to explain. Thirty seconds to allow him to determine if she was going because she had genuinely been recalled back to duty or if she was leaving because of him.

He could have apologized. He could have assured her it would never happen again. He could have offered to go with her.

They were supposed to be a team.

What had he done? He had ruined _everything_.

Steve sunk down on the edge of his mattress and dropped his head into his hands. How could something that had felt so right have destroyed everything so quickly? He should have known better. He should have had more self-control. He shouldn't have let her leave the barn before he talked thing through with her. He was always so careful with her. Why had he been so reckless?

 _Because you've always been a reckless idiot,_ He could practically hear Bucky remark smugly in his head.

God, he wished Bucky was here right now and not under ice in some giant test tube in Wakanda. He could have really used his friend's advice. Hell, if his friend had been here, he probably wouldn't have been so stupid and reckless and allowed himself to be so distracted by her.

Steve dropped his hands from his head. No. He couldn't blame his friend's absence on his impulsivity. That tension he felt building between himself and Natasha had been steadily increasing for years. It just so happened that her recent arrival had seemed to spike like it hadn't since DC and he'd latched onto it like a man desperate to keep his head above water.

He'd wanted to kiss her and _more_ … and look where that had gotten him. She was long gone and he was left with a cracked phone and a ball of anger that screamed for release. He should go for a run, burn it off, howl into the wind or climb a mountain or something. But instead, he gave in to the crushing disappointment and the torment that he'd once again ruined any chance of being with the woman he loved.

His head shot up.

Love? Did he love her?

No. He paused. He didn't... _did he?_

His hands curled into fists. Did it matter? Even if he did, and he wasn't willing to admit he did yet, it didn't matter. She was gone and he probably wouldn't see her until the next alien invasion or world crisis. By then the tension between them would be gone and she would just be back to being Agent Romanoff, The Black Widow, someone he used to know. Not Natasha. Not Nat.

He threw himself backward on the bed and stared at the ceiling and tried to think about what he was going to do next, but he couldn't. The tsunami of emotion was too much to bare. It wasn't even the pain of rejection that hurt the most, (he couldn't blame her for not wanting to be with him – who would?), but rather the loss of something that was so vitally important to him. His friend.

God, was she ever going to look him in the eye again?

She was probably laughing her ass off about him with Fury right now. Steve grabbed the pillow beside him and with a growl, he tore it in half and watched as the feathers spewed into the air.

 _Shit_ , he was going to have clean that up later.

Steve tossed the remaining pieces of pillow across the room. He had to get out of here before he tore the house apart. Part of him wanted to go into her room again and double check to see if she'd left any piece of her behind, any trace, but he knew two things then. One, she would have been too professional to ever have left a trace and two, if he went in her room and saw it empty again, he may just smash a Hulk-sized hole in the side of the house.

Sitting up, Steve brushed aside feathers and threw open his door. Deliberately ignoring her room and Sam standing in the hallway with a sympathetic look on his face, he charged down the stairs and towards the front door.

"I'm going for a run!" he shouted to no one in particular, because he was at least decent enough to let people know where he was going; and started running as if the hounds of hell were on his heels.

 _One month later_ …

"The answer is no."

"But, Sir!"

"I'm sorry, Romanoff - but that's my final answer."

"But I can do this!"

"I'm sure you can – but this plan of yours is suicide at best."

Natasha stared incredulously at the older man in front of her. Dressed in his usual garb of black leather, Fury sat stoically in his high back chair and did not waver as she pleaded her case.

"It's nothing I haven't done before," she seethed, folding her arms across her chest and glaring daggers at him.

Fury bobbed his head in agreement. "And we had the luxury of a fully equipped organization standing by back then. This time you will be completely alone and cut off without any chance of back up if something goes wrong."

"Nothing is going to go wrong-"

"Have you seen yourself lately?"

The spy balked. "What's that supposed to mean? I haven't messed up _once_."

"You've been sloppy, Natasha," Fury chided.

She felt like a child being scolded by a strict parent, and she nearly laughed aloud at the thought - she didn't even remember what it was like to have parents.

Perhaps teacher was the more accurate choice of word? Yes, she thought to herself. The way he was talking to her now was similar to the way her teachers back at the Red Room barked at her. Cruel, callous teachers; always critical, always unsatisfied, and never once pleased with her progress.

' _You must work harder, Natalia. You must be better. Stronger. Faster. Failure is death and we do not accept death as an excuse for laziness.'_

Natasha ground her teeth together at the bitter memory. "I'd hardly call my work of late sloppy, _Sir_."

"No?" Fury rebuked, his left eyebrow arching. "Ok then, how about… reckless, belligerent, rash, temperamental, _unpredictable_?"

Natasha felt her cheeks flame red. Tossing her long hair over her shoulder, she glowered down at the desk separating the two. "I do what I need to do to get the job done. I always have." Feeling a little more daring, she flicked her eyes from the table to his face. "I don't recall you ever complaining about it in the past."

Fury frowned, his head bowing with a minuscule acknowledgment of agreement. "That may be, but you nearly exposed yourself and my operation by refusing to take out that mercenary last night," he reminded her. "And more importantly, you blatantly ignored protocol and dragged him aboard _my_ plane."

"He had good intel-"

"-His intel was nothing more than watercooler gossip and you know it."

"No, I _don't_ actually, because you wouldn't even let me interrogate-"

"Enough!" Fury bellowed, slamming his clenched fist down on the table. "Get your head out of your ass Romanoff, and act like the trained super spy you're supposed to be! If you can't get your shit together, then get the hell off my plane, because I've got more important things to do than waste another second arguing with a _liability_."

Natasha's stomach plummeted as if the plane had suddenly taken a sharp nose dive. Her gaze dropped down to her boot-clad feet. Shame spread like wildfire through her veins and caused her ribcage to clench her lungs tightly. She couldn't breathe. She felt raw and stripped bare before the very man she had once considered to be some sort of a father figure.

He was right of course, and the very fact that she knew he was right was what made her feel so nauseous. She _had_ been reckless lately. No more so than when she'd gone against orders and abandoned her mission upon overhearing two mercenaries bragging about their boss making plans to resume the Winter Solider program.

Fury sighed.

Natasha didn't dare raises her eyes for fear of seeing the disappointment she knew was probably written all over his face.

"Look, I know that when I called you back it was on the one and only condition that I'd help you find that damn book," he started, his tone now achingly patient and kind. "And we _are_ narrowing in on it. But this…this plan of yours will only get you killed. If you want to recapture it, you need to be objective and you _need_ to listen to me when I say that the risks are not in our favor here."

"But the meeting-"

"We've got a man on the inside-"

"-But he's not close enough to Burkeoff!" She insisted, her eyes flashing back to Fury's face. "He's just a lackey and he won't be privy to the actual meeting. If you let me go I can be in and out before they even notice the book is gone."

"Natasha-"

"Please, Nick! Please trust that I can do this." She gave up trying to hide the desperation she felt and let it all bleed through on her face. "You don't understand - I need to do this."

"That's what's worrying me," Fury confessed, regarding her with an apprehensive look. "You're willing to throw your life away for the mere rumor that Burkeoff has the book that brainwashed Barnes into the Winter Solider."

"He has it. I know he does. He's too much of an egomaniac and a wannabe dictator to not add this to his collection." She stepped towards his desk and placed both hands on the polished wooden surface. Leaning forward, she pulled out all the stops by serving him with the most beseeching look she was capable of. "Let me do this, Nick. _Please_. I've never asked you for a single favour-"

"Because you know I'm not in the business of giving out favors."

"I know," she agreed softly. "But I'm asking you, just this once…"

He huffed, looking skyward.

After a long pause, he screwed his face up and groaned. "I can't afford to lose another valuable asset at the moment," he told her. "Do you know how much money and resources it costs me to replace you idiots every time you want to go off and play hero?"

"No? How much?" she quipped, feigning ignorance.

"More money then you're worth, smartass." He pressed a button on his desk that would summon Hill to his office. "If this all goes to hell and you go and get yourself killed, I'm going to be seriously pissed off."

Natasha brightened, beaming as she straightened. "Nick - I'm touched," she admitted, and she genuinely was. She knew she had been up for a big fight to convince him to let her go ahead with this mission, but she hadn't expected him to cave as fast as he did.

Fury scowled but there was no real heat to his expression. "Don't be. I'm speaking from a purely business perspective," he retorted. "You and your rag tag team of idiots are bleeding me dry."

She tried to swallow her glee, knowing he was just as capable to change his mind and refuse to give her permission to go on her supposed suicide mission. "I won't let you down," she added fluttering her eyelashes for extra emphasis.

Fury snorted. "You better not." He grumbled and leant back in his chair. "Now, get out of my office before I decide your more trouble than your worth."

"Thank you, Nick." Before he could stop her, she hoped across the table and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

He growled. "Don't start thinking you've won me over with those doe eyes, Romanoff. I'm still pissed off with you right now and if you die so help me, I will bring you back just so I can kill you myself. Are we clear?"

Natasha smiled the first true smile she'd worn in months. She nodded eagerly and started walking backwards to the door. "I'll be back before you know it."

"I've heard that before."

She grinned. "DC wasn't _my_ fault."

"You and your super soldier boyfriend sent six years of my hard work plummeting into the Potomac."

"Roger's is not my _boyfriend_!" she responded defensively, but closed her mouth from further protests when he waved her off.

"I know, I know," Fury remarked looking rather amused by her outburst. "I've heard it all before."

"Besides," Natasha pointed out. "I thought we agreed that since I helped save the world more than once that I had a few extra brownie points," she reminded him. "And you've still technically got one helicarrier up and running."

"Are you trying to change my mind?"

"Sorry, Sorry. I'm gone." With a last appreciative smile, she waved and quickly ducked out of his office.

Maria nodded in greeting as Natasha shut the door behind her. Holding out a small black backpack full of the supplies the spy had requested, she clicked her tongue in disapproval. "You've got more lives than a cat, Romanoff," she admonished and watched as Natasha took stock of the supplies. "You better hope you've got a couple more spare in order to pull off this job."

Natasha raised her eyebrow as she plucked out a box of peroxide and platinum blonde hair dye.

"Just in case," Maria clarified. "Burkeoff has a thing for blondes. It might come in handy if you need a diversion."

"I don't plan on being seen long enough for them to tell what color my hair is, but it's a good idea, thanks." Natasha stuffed the dye back into the bag and zipped it up.

"Yeah, well I didn't plan on cleaning up after aliens and superheroes when I signed up for the military, so we all have to be prepared for when life throws us a curve ball."

"Thanks for the pep talk as always, Maria. Have you ever considered a career as a life coach?"

"Agent Hill!" Both women turned to look at the door as Fury barked for Maria.

"Try not to die, he gets really cranky when that happens," Maria urged and jerked her thumb towards the door. "And I'm the one who cops it."

"I'll do my best to avoid you having a bad afternoon," she promised the other woman sweetly.

"HILL!"

"I'd appreciate it," Maria muttered and strode to the door and opened it. "You bellowed, Boss?"

Natasha smirked and trotted off to give the pilot her co-ordinates of the mainland closest to the large private island she was about to siege. Protected by a shield that gave off a small EMF pulse, the island itself was inaccessible by any light aircraft or motored boats. Additionally, this meant that any tech or hardware she might normally use was made redundant and she would have to leg it old school if she was to break into the secure compound located in the middle of the island.

The risks were far too many to list, and the likelihood of her getting in and out undetected were nearly improbable, but she knew she had to do this. Not just for the man she had left behind, but for herself.

The second she had boarded Fury's plane she had wrestled with her decision to leave. On the one hand, it had been the right thing to do to leave before either of them were seriously hurt by her serious lack of self-control. But on the other hand, she knew she had owed it to him as a friend to leave on a better note and she had been a coward to ignore his attempts to contact her.

Fear might have motivated her decision to initially flee, but the thing that surprised her the most in the weeks that followed was that the fear turned out to be nothing compared to the emptiness she was experiencing now.

Natasha had thought that once she had some time away from Steve and the others she could return to her old self. She could don the Black Widow mask again, and everything would be back to how it was before she joined the Avengers.

But she'd been so very wrong.

Fury had been right to criticize her performance. She was rash and too quick to react of late. There was none of her old patient objective thinking. Instead, she dove in head first to every situation and more often than not she had trouble remembering that her body had limits and unlike some of her team mates, she wasn't indestructible.

The recent scars and hairline fractures she bore were evident enough of this fact.

It wasn't so much that Natasha was out of shape or mentally incapable of spy work, it was just that she didn't feel physical pain anymore. She didn't feel the clip of a bullet, the rush of adrenaline during a chase or even the danger from a fall far too high for her body's capability.

She missed him.

She couldn't help it. She missed _them_. She missed how she was before the kiss. She missed how she felt when they were together, and she missed the confusing rush of emotions and delight she felt when she caught him looking at her.

Now all she felt was empty.

So, she had made a deal with herself. She would secure the red notebook with the black embossed star on the cover, the very same notebook that held the secrets and solution to Bucky Barnes predicament, and she would return it to Steve.

The book would be her one and only shot at redemption. Her single hope of explaining herself to the man who wasn't aware that he now held the complete power to destroy what was left of her in the palm of his hand.

He had saved her life and now it was Natasha's naïve hope that by finding the book and presenting Steve with the ability to restore his best friend, his _life_ , that the blonde Captain might consider forgiving her and everything that was wrong with her would be restored again.

Perhaps they could even go back to some sort of semblance of a friendship again? A friendship that maybe, in her wildest dreams, might be as solid as it had been before the Accords and her skipping out on them.

It was a futile, childish hope - something she was inexperienced in possessing - but everything had changed the day she left in the quinjet and she knew now that she was ready and willing to try and risk it all for him or else lose herself to the nothingness.

There was only one catch – would it be enough for him?

Steve was careful to ease out of his mud-soaked boots and leave them beside the front door as he slipped inside the house as quietly as he could. With the rain still pounding against the house mercilessly, he pulled his sodden hood back and hoped his team mates were still in bed and hadn't noticed he'd been gone all night.

Before he could face a new day, he first needed a long hot shower and some of that fancy coffee Wanda loved to drink. Her certainly needed something to keep him awake after a night of wondering the streets of the town alone.

He didn't know why he snuck out of the house, just that he felt like he would explode if he didn't. His mind had been relentless last night and a part of him could admit that he'd been hoping to run into a fight or some kind of crime that needed handling. He had never been one to seek out a fight, but last night he had wanted something to silence the pounding in his head and the agitation in his bones.

Life on the run had turned into his very worst nightmare. He was beyond bored, restless and angry. At first it had been living from minute to minute, making sure they weren't identified and keeping his team mates safe and underground. Now it had become a mind-numbing routine of relentless minutes ticking by on a clock and he couldn't stand it another moment longer.

He was lonely as well. As much as he loved his team mates and their presence in his life, it wasn't the same. He didn't connect with them in the same way. He'd once joked with Natasha about shared life experience…. He paused and his fists tightened.

No. He wasn't going to think about her right now. Not when he'd spent most of the night over analyzing every moment, every word spoken. He couldn't handle it anymore. He couldn't worry and speculate about her whereabouts and what she was doing. It was driving him insane.

It was time. Time to let her go and just accept what had happened. She was long gone. They had kissed and it was over just like that. He'd ruined years of friendship and trust in a single moment.

He didn't know if he wanted to go back in time and stop the kiss from ever happening or if he would have held on tighter and threatened to never let her go. God, he was a disgrace.

Never again.

That was the decision he'd made last night as he wandered the streets like a wraith in the night.

He was done.

Done worrying, done thinking, done fantasying. He had to focus on the present and his future. Like what was he going to do with the three team mates he found standing in front of his bedroom door whispering and completely oblivious to his presence?

"Do you think we should check and see if he's, like, still alive?"

"He's not dead, Scott. He's just… resting."

"Resting is a nice way of saying _wallowing_."

"Well, I don't see you going in there and telling him to snap out of it."

"I would but.. ah… he won't listen to someone like me. Wanda - you should go in there and say something."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because you're his favorite."

"No, I'm not!"

"Yeah, I agree with, Scott. You kinda are. You're like his kid sister – he won't yell at you."

"You're both being stupid. He won't yell at any of us. It's not like that. He's just a little tired at the moment is all."

"Yeah, you're right, that wasn't yelling when he made me do _sixty_ laps around the lake yesterday – that was him gently caressing my ears with his loving whispers."

"To be fair, you _were_ the one that brought Natasha up."

"I had to! It's like her name is Voldermort - you can't say her name or you get struck by lightning."

"Dude, seriously? Did you even watch the movie last week? No one was struck by lightning. He's a wizard – not Thor."

"It's a kids movie, who cares?"

"Spoken like a true muggle, Sam."

"Guys-"

"Tic Tac, I say this in the nicest possible way, but you need to get a life."

"And how do I do that exactly? If you haven't noticed I'm kind of stuck with you all here. I'd much rather be at home with my kid then tip toeing around Godzilla in there."

"Godzilla can hear you, you know." Steve interrupted and he had to roll his eyes when the three off them whirled around in shock and finally noticed him standing at the bottom of the staircase. Each one wore the same expression of guilt and panic.

Climbing the stairs two at a time, he realized with a touch of shame that there was some truth to their words. He hadn't been himself of late and he had allowed his temper to get the best of him more often than he was proud of. He knew they didn't deserve to suffer his dark moods and he was mad at himself for letting it spill over and infect his team mates.

But no more.

Still berating himself, he squeezed past them into his bedroom with the intention to grab some dry clothes. Out of habit, he cast a glance at his phone on its charger by his bed. The screen was still horribly cracked after bearing the brunt of his rage and he had reluctantly accepted that she wasn't going to call him unless she was good and ready.

At least he knew she was alive.

With slumped shoulders, he turned back towards the bathroom and found Wanda still standing patiently in the hallway. She greeted him with a small nervous smile and he instantly felt remorse eat away at his heart. He didn't want to be that guy. He knew his team were already struggling with being on the run from their friends and family and here he was making it worse for them.

He sent her back a contrite smile and she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Where were you?" She asked softly, her tone free of judgement or accusation. She only looked concerned as her hand gently pressed against his soaked sweatshirt. He noticed the slightest shimmer of her scarlet power rush over his arm and he knew immediately she was probing his thoughts to ensure he wasn't in any real danger.

He raised an eyebrow at her and looked pointedly at her hand. She grimaced and had the decency to look apologetic at the personal intrusion and withdrew her hand. "I had to be sure," she explained.

"I was just out walking," he assured her, and it wasn't a lie. "I just needed some air and it's easier when everyone is asleep." She nodded in understanding. "I'm ok." He told her earnestly. "Don't worry about me. I'm sorry I've been a nightmare lately."

"It's ok, we understand." She assured him with a sympathetic smile, and he knew deep down that she really did. He marveled at not for the first time, how strong the Sokovian native was. After all, she had been through, all the horrors and loss she had experienced, she was still the sweetest and most loving of them all.

He gave her an appreciative look and squeezed her arm before stepping past her. "I promise no training today. We should do something fun - maybe go out and see a movie or something?"

"Hallelujah!" Came a muffled cheer from behind Sam's door and the young man suddenly greeted them with a beaming smile. "Well, it's about damn time. Yo Scott, we're busting free – Steve's taking us out on a pity date!"

"Woohoo!"

Steve rolled his eyes and sent Wanda a pleading look. " _You_ get to pick the movie."

"I'm ok with that, pick any movie you like. For this momentous occasion, I would sit through a hundred chick flicks!" Sam promised.

Steve eyed him suspiciously and without a hint of teasing said, "I thought your favorite movie was Miss Congeniality?"

A smirk spread across Sam's face and he nodded proudly. "I stand by that fact. My girl Sandy is a national treasure!"

"Alright, calm down fangirl."

Sam gaped. "Did you just make a modern-day pop culture reference?" Sam asked, bringing his hands to his mouth in mock surprise. "Today is a day full of miracles!"

Steve knew then that he was in for a day of merciless teasing from the man. But he supposed he probably deserved after what he had put them through.

Wanda looked unconvinced. "Maybe we should just leave Sam at home?" she teased in a mock whisper behind her hand.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "I would, but it'd be hard to find a sitter at this late notice."

"You guys are comedians. No really. Hilarious. My sides are splitting."

"We could tie him to a tree?" Wanda offered with a contemplative look on her face. "Leave him a bowl of water in case he gets thirsty?"

"Nah, he might howl and upset the neighbors."

Sam folded his hands over his chest and sent them a withering glare. "Are you two done? Cos I've got places to be and your money to spend."

"I need to shower first," Steve explained and pointed downstairs. "How about you organize breakfast and I'll meet you all in 15?" Steve suggested and rolled his eyes when Sam mock saluted him in response and dragged Wanda down stairs.

Steve closed and locked the bathroom door behind him, releasing a sigh. He remembered that old saying old about change being as good as a holiday and he thought maybe there was some truth in that. Starting the shower he contemplated how he and his remaining team mates could move forward in their lives and that perhaps it might be time to look for a new safe house – after all, Clint had mentioned there were half a dozen other places around the world that he could use at any given notice. Maybe they all just needed a change of scene?

Decision made, he stepped into the shower and began rehearsing what he'd say to the retired archer about finding them a new location and how he would convince the others it was a good idea.

Besides, things couldn't get any worse, could they?


End file.
